Riddler Rises
by K.Yoshi654
Summary: Edward Nashton was nothing more then a broken, beaten boy. After the Joker has his glory, the police discover the grusome murder of a man and something strange left at the crime scene. Riddle me this, who is the Riddler?
1. Edward Nashton

Hi, this is my first fanfic on this site, but please if you want to give me advice, I am all for it. So the Riddler is one of my favourite Batman villians, but there is a problem fitting him into the movieverse of Batman. This is mostly because of the tone of the movies, less comicy and such. But also because it would hard to live up to the standards of the Joker. If added many may think the Joker and the Riddler are too similar. So my idea was to take the Riddler and start him from the bottom up. How he came to be. I apoligize to the hardcore fans out there, but I've turned the Riddler into a teenager. I've kept a lot of his background and followed the symptoms and signs of a narcissistic personality disorder. I own none of the characters by the way.

So please enjoy my revamped story of the Riddler, and how he brought Gotham to its knees.

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><p>"Wake up! You're going to be late to school you moron," Edward felt his body shoved out of the bed. He landed on something sharp, he yelped in pain. It was probably a screw or maybe it was his hammer.<p>

His father's voice continued, "Get up! How are you going to do anything with your life if you're never at school?"

"For god's sake dad, I've told you every week I have a spare in the morning," Edward had to bite his lip in frustration to control himself from lashing out at this small minded moron.

"Liar, now get your ass to school," with that the door was slammed and Edward was left to put his bed back together.

He muttered to himself as usual, one of the only things that kept him from breaking down, "One day Edward, one day I'll make him suffer, and I'll make him pay. The stupid will always die, deserve to fucking die."

The teenager looked up at his reflection, just a scrawny boy with bruises covering his limbs and face. Oh yes, one day he'd show his father how smart he was. One day his father would be the weak one and him the strong one. Edward knew his father couldn't even comprehend the level of intelligence that his son possessed.

Edward mustered up a grin, all he had to do was finish this year, grade 12, and then he'd be out of the shit hole called Gotham. One year and he could go into College, realize his dream of being an engineer. Then he could shove it in his stupid, plumbing, father's face.

After dressing and almost tripping over yet another piece of machinery, Edward Nashton walked into the kitchen where his dad sat.

Giving the man a dirty look from the back he stuck up his nose and proceeded to ignore his father.

It didn't stop the razor sharp words of his father though, "Hey moron, you still failing you're courses? That's all you are, a failure. You won't be living under my roof when you're on welfare and working at Kentucky Fried Chicken."

Edward slammed his knife down on his plate. He didn't know why he always opened his mouth. Maybe because he wanted to prove himself right, show how smart he was. Arguing always made things worse, but he saw it as a challenge to his intellect.

"I probably wouldn't be eligible for welfare, and what do you know about what I can do? If you're not insulting me, you could care less what I do!" He screamed.

His father shrugged, "Sure I do, you're marks tell me everything."

Edward gritted his teeth and grabbed his knapsack and slammed the front door behind him. School bored him; he hated the homework and could care less about the story of Macbeth. He'd much rather work on his devices. So what if his grades had fallen, he'd get out of this stupid funk.

The sky was gray and Edward had the feeling it was going to rain. Great, he'd be soaked by the time when he got home. Then his father would murder him for dirtying the floors.

"Hey, wait for me!" Edward yelled at the public bus. The women at the wheel with tired eyes simply shook her head and closed the door.

"No! What the hell woman?" he gasped as he slowed his pace. "Bitch!" he yelled in anger, a few people who were across the street turned to look at him in horror. He ignored their looks. He didn't care what those stupid citizens thought. He kicked the wall of the bus stop, and sat down on the bench. It would be another 15 minutes till the next one. Great, now he'd be late for school. Looking at his watch Edward realized that the driver had been 2 minutes early! He clenched his hands in fury; the stinging kept him from punching something, or someone.

Edward sighed, "Just another thing for that moron to scream about."

The 15 minutes passed quickly as Edward finished the math problem his teacher had bragged about being incredibly difficult and he tried reading a bit of the Frankenstein novel he was supposed to read. But it took all of his power not to chuck the book at a speeding car.

The bus screeched to a stop in front of him, thank god it wasn't that horrid women, or he may have just punched her. Carefully putting the notebook back in the order he had placed it in and stepped onto the bus. After dropping his change into the machine he almost fell onto the ground as the bus jerked forward. He was able to grab the pole before it happened.

On the bus he worked on most of his physics problems. He grinned at a problem on the sheet and started sketching furiously.

He looked at the question; you pull a 15.0 kg crate up a ramp at a constant speed. The height of the ramp is 5 m. How much work does it take to pull the crate up the ramp? On the diagram a crane had been sketched and underneath it said, "None, the crane will do the work for me." He giggled at his own genius. He grabbed his bag and jumped out the back door of the bus.

"Ed, your late man," a stoner laughed at Edward who grinded his teeth at the nickname.

Edward recognized the lesser being and lived by the rule that making stupid enemies was a stupid idea. So he simply nodded and stated, "Yup." He walked towards the front of the school, a rule for life at a high school, never run. You look like an idiot and someone is bound to yell "Run Forrest, Run!" at you.

Another unwritten rule in high school, you don't want to stand out, you'll always be targeted. But oh, how Edward wanted to stand out to show the world how stupid they were and the intelligence he possessed. Instead of being talked down by all his school mates and teachers, just because school wasn't entertaining enough to hold his attention.

"Hello, name?" the secretary said in a monotone voice.

"Nashton, Edward."

"That's 6 lates Edward. You have a detention today at lunch."

"Oh great, why thank you."

The secretary looked up, an odd look on her face.

Edward sighed and muttered, "I was being sarcastic."

"Pardon?" she leered at him, missing Edward's answer.

He shook his head, "Never mind."

The hallways were empty and Edward dropped off his backpack in his locker. He then grabbed his books, stacking the pile from largest to smallest. While walking to his class he saw his physics teacher, he sighed. This day just kept getting better and better.

"Nashton, could I speak to you?" the nasally voice always got on his nerves.

Edward dreamed of the day of breaking the nose of this ignorant man, "Of course Mr. Marks."

"Look, your marks are… aren't doing too well."

"I know, how would I not know Mr. Marks?" Edward sighed, he started flexing his fingers.

Mr. Marks continued on, "You need to hand in your work Ed."

Edward shrugged and pushed by the teacher, "Whatever, I got to get to class." The teacher didn't object, but Edward knew that Mr. Marks was shaking his head at him. Probably because he thought Edward was stupid, but one day he'd show that teacher how brilliant he was.

He'd show the whole god damn world.


	2. The Cube

**Hello, bit dissapointed I didn't get any feedback, but I will previal! Anyway, another chapter! Most of Riddler's origins come from the comic books and such. Also camera watches are real, and I want one lol, they sell them on eBay :) Enjoy!**

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><p>Edward was reading through a paragraph about programing a mechanical arm in the book he had borrowed from the library when the announcement came on.<p>

"Hey Gators! Want to show to the school you're the best at puzzles and how smart you are? Next Monday at lunch be at the cafeteria challenge Mr. Marks at his impossible puzzle test and you can win the hundred dollars that no student in the history of school has been able to win! Be there Monday!" some peppy teenage girl practically screamed over the intercom.

Instantly the room buzzed with conversation, after all this was calculus. The course all brilliant students took.

"Did she say a hundred dollars?"

"No way. The school never gives away money."

"No it's true! My brother says every four years the physics teacher brings out this impossible puzzle no one can solve."

"Hell I'm going to try; I think I have a chance at it."

The conversations filled the classroom, and Edward noticed the teacher was smiling as if she knew a secret. And Edward knew this secret. She knew no one could solve it, the whole staff was setting up the students to fail. Idiots.

Someone prodded his shoulder, it was some girl, he could never remember all their names. She spoke in a cheerful voice, "Are you going to try Ed?"

"Of course not, it's all…" but he stopped, all these morons were falling for the trick. He grinned, if he could get that money, show everyone his genius. Prove his father wrong, show him how smart he was. And he knew how to be sure he could do that puzzle.

He gave the girl a smile, "Actually why not, where's the harm?"

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><p>Edward pulled the tiny camera out of the front of his backpack and stuck it in the handle of a locker near the door of Mr. Marks' office. He turned on his watch and soon he was getting feed from the camera on his watch phone. The internet was an amazing place to buy crazy gadgets.<p>

It was the perfect plan, he set up motion detectors each way of the hallway and they would send him a signal if someone was passing by. He pulled out his lock picking kit and the cheap school lock clicked open easily.

"Too easy," he paused, "At least for me," he grinned for real for the first time in a while. The adrenaline rush of breaking the rules was exhilarating.

He walked over to the desk, if this puzzle was so precious to Mr. Marks, and considering that he had the intelligence of a high school teacher, Edward figured he knew where he kept it.

Edward pulled open the first drawer, unlocked, full of a mix of pencils and pens. Edward winced at the man's untidiness, but closed the drawer. The next filled with files and then finally the last drawer. He pulled, locked.

Snickering like a maniac Edward pulled out his kit again and the drawer was open. He looked in, his anticipation rising. At the bottom was…

A rubix cube.

"Is this a joke?" Edward muttered, but then he realized this one was different, it was completely green with a question mark on each side. This meant the pieces had to be in a specific order.

Edward continued talking to himself, "Well that can't be all of it. There are people who can solve cubes in seconds. Maybe not this specific but still." He hit himself on the forehead, "Of course, I'm a genius! There must be a certain time limit!"

Without a second thought, Edward mixed up the blocks at random, "I'll stay here until I can solve it. And then I'll be the master of puzzles," he grinned at the thought and started moving the lines of squares.

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><p>The week of school went by faster than usual for Edward who looked forward to practicing the puzzle every night. The first night it had taken him 3 hours to figure it but his time kept getting better and better. Even on the weekend he managed to break into the school. And soon the day had come and Edward entered the annoyingly loud cafeteria.<p>

Already a few people had gathered around Mr. Marks, only three others were participating in the test. Most had been scared off by Derek Huong, the boy who could do a rubix cube in five minutes and claimed he did a million piece puzzles at home.

Edward stepped into the line of participants, he could hear the snickers. All the people who doubted him, he could hardly keep the smile off his face. Today was the day he would shine.

"Ah, Ed, good to see you here," Edward could see the doubt even in the eyes of the teacher.

But he gave him a smile, a smile that probably creeped out the teacher a bit, "Why thank you sir."

Unsure if the teenager was mocking him, or because he was just a little strange, Mr. Marks began the contest. "Good afternoon students, welcome to the tradition of the puzzle, the test of intelligence, may I introduce the cube!"

He pulled the green rubix cube from his bag and held it up for the school to see. They cheered like mentally ill children lead by a pied piper. Always following a leader, screaming for anything that involved school spirit, the students lacked any intelligence, no wonder they weren't participating. The only part of the cube that resembled anything to do with school was it was green, the school's colour.

"You have one minute to solve the puzzle, the question marks must be properly made again," he explained, Edward smiled at how right he had been.

Mr. Marks mixed up the cube and tossed it to the first girl who looked baffled and confused.

"And go!" the physics teacher hit the start button of the timer and the girl began furiously mixing up the blocks. Edward didn't even pay attention.

"And stop, I'm sorry Pamela but you have not finished the puzzle," the teacher mixed up the block again and handed it to the next person. Three minutes later and the cube was in Edward's hands again. He barely heard the teacher yell go. For once he didn't notice how the students were slowly leaving the cafeteria, obviously having no hope in him solving it. Especially after Derek couldn't do it. He didn't notice that Mr. Marks wasn't even watching him but rather the timer, waiting to say stop. Afterwards he would give the old speech of, "You tried your best guys, congratulations. I think you did better than four years ago." He didn't remember the morning in which his father had pushed him down the stairs for being in the way. He didn't think about how he had been called a failure, useless and a moron all within five seconds after falling.

No, all he could see, all he could feel, all that mattered was the puzzle.

"Done."

His words rang clear despite the noise of the cafeteria, the voices fell silent as the students started to crowd back to the centre.

Mr. Marks stopped the timer in shock, "What?"

In Edward's palm was the complete cube with a perfect question mark on each side.

The teacher grabbed the cube and looked it over in almost a panic, "How is that possible? Each question mark is a bit different so you can't use different parts of the question mark in different ones," he muttered softly and quietly. The cube was perfect. He looked down at his timer and gaped in shock again. It was so quiet in the room you could hear a pin drop. Mr. Marks announced the time, "38 seconds."

Silence filled the room, Edward grinned, practically beaming. He took back the cube, "Am I victorious Mr. Marks?"

Someone started clapping, and soon the whole room was applauding. Some whistles and cheers followed.

Mr. Marks handed him an envelope and a large book, "Book of Riddles, for the master of puzzles Mr. Nashton. Congratulations. Keep the cube." The man was beaming and shaking his hand as the cheering elevated.

It was everything Edward had dreamed of as he took a bow and raised his arms up still holding the cube. They saw him, they really saw him. As the genius he was, he never wanted the moment to end. He laughed, because to them, not only were they cheering to his brilliance but to their own stupidity, he was smarter than them all. He knew why he was more brilliant, for thinking outside the box, for not conforming or seeing the teacher's lies. But as he basked in the glory of people's praises he knew most important lesson of all.

Cheating would get him anywhere he wanted.


	3. Cheating

**A/N: Things are starting to fall apart, or if you look at it a different way, building up. Thanks for the review! I'm greedy so I only hope for more XP but thanks for reminding me! I totally don't own Batman, or any characters. Enjoy!**

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><p>Edward burst into his house, he had never been so happy to come home before.<p>

"Dad! I have something to show you!" he was grinning like a madman, this was a chance to shove it in that stupid man's face.

He was in the family room lying on the lazy chair watching TV when Edward walked in practically shoving the five twenty dollar bills in his face. The old man grabbed the money, and while he looked at it Edward spouted out about the puzzle.

Edward didn't notice the news on the TV, where a man dressed up as batman appeared tied up in a meat locker.

"I won it; I beat this puzzle," he held the green rubix cube, "In 38 seconds! 38 seconds dad!"

His father glared at him for a bit while Edward waited for a reaction, something similar to the students and teachers. He waited for the praise, the "I should've never doubted you son."

"You cheated."

The words shocked and stunned Edward. How could he know? It wasn't possible. His father was a stupid man, blinded by his own ego to know the real world.

"W-what?" Edward stuttered, "How could you say that? I won this fair and square. Why can't you just be proud of me?"

His father was about a foot taller than him and at least twice his weight. The larger man grabbed his son by his dark hair, ignoring his yelping, and threw him to the ground. The boy looked up at his father partially terrified, but defiant.

"Stop!" he yelled, he could feel his eyes burning but he refused to cry.

"I went to the same school moron, I know the puzzle, and I tried and failed myself. And do I think you have the brain to do it? No," the man was speaking in a soft, deadly voice. He placed a foot on Edward's chest.

Edward was squirming trying to push his father's leg off. He punched but to no avail.

"You're nothing that cheating, lying, miserable worm," the large man sneered, he put more weight on his one leg and Edward gasped in pain.

Edward screamed, hatred filled his veins, "I hate you! You fucking bastard, I didn't cheat!"

His father pressed harder, he leaned over, getting closer to the boy's face, "Shut up, just admit it, you fucking cheated." He smashed his fist into Edward's face, who gasped and screamed in pain.

"I didn't cheat!" the more Edward said it, the more he started to believe it. He yelled more as his father put more and more weight on his chest.

If infuriated, Edward's father was still calm, deadly calm though. "You can't do anything right can you, you moron," the word burned itself into Edward's mind, he had been called it so much. The word he referred everyone else to, he never deserved to be called it. It wasn't fair.

"Useless piece of meat," his father punched him in the face again, and then again. With every hit Edward could only scream. After a couple minutes his face felt like hamburger meat, it stung and he felt blood drip from his mouth.

Somehow he was able to still speak, barely, "I didn't cheat."

With those last words, his father stomped on his chest and Edward felt all the air leave his body. His chest felt like it was on fire and all he could do was wail in pain. His father left him on the ground moaning. He shoved the money in his pocket and chucked the cube and book at Edward who didn't even feel them hit him, but he grabbed them. He didn't really know why.

Pain washed over Edward, pain, misery, hate, disappointment, rage, sorrow, defeat, and most of all bloodlust. He wanted that man dead, he wasn't his father, wasn't anything to Edward. How much Edward had tried to prove himself, but it always ended in failure. The burning in his eye grew stronger he hobbled towards the door. He would not give that man the satisfaction of thinking he won.

It was pouring outside and Edward just gasped for air from his burning chest. The water soaked his hair, washed away the blood on his face.

And now the tears flowed down his face, only when no one could see them. He fled to the alleys where no one was because of the rain. He cried, screaming and wailing like a banshee. Incredibly unmasculine, but Edward didn't care anymore. Didn't care how people saw him. He had failed. He pulled at his hair and punched the brick wall.

One punch, "Fuck you!" he screamed

Another one, "Die you fucking bastard!"

He threw at least twenty more punches, screaming a different insult at his father each time.

Finally he leaned against the brick wall and slid down. He ignored his bloody knuckles and wrapped his arms around his legs and hid his head. His whole body shook as he sobbed. He was truly alone wasn't he? It wasn't fair, stupid other kids and their kind parents. Parents who praised them, parents who loved them, he was tired of being an old man's punching bag. He had to just face the truth, his life sucked, the world didn't realize the genius they had in their midst and they were going to waste him. What was worth living for anyway? A girl? Get real; he could care less of having a relationship. College? It would just end up being just like high school. He should just give up.

"No."

Edward looked up, water dripped off his hair and he pushed himself so he was standing. Without thinking clearly he grabbed the fire escape ladder that went to the roof and started climbing. Ignoring the pain in his hands, the burning in his chest and bruised face, he kept on.

"No, I won't let them win." he muttered still climbing.

"I'll make them see."

"They can't keep me down, I won't lose to morons."

"Because I am better, I am the best!" he screamed the last word after climbing the story building. He was panting but he walked up to edge of the roof, his toes hanging over. He could see through the rain the city of Gotham, alight in the dark. Edward threw his arms into the air, as if he was accepting the rain, accepting the world.

He kept screaming at the sky, "Because I know this whole town will be mine one day! One day I will own everything!"

"I'm worth more than anyone has to offer! I have more to offer than anyone in this whole fucking city, the whole damn world," he kept going.

He laughed like a maniac, "Fuck you world!

Raindrops pounded on his skin, it made him feel alive. Edward knew why his father had beaten him, not because he thought he was cheating. Because the moron was jealous. The reason why he bullied his son and exhibited physical dominance, he was jealous of Edward. Jealous of his brilliance, jealous of his youth and potential, because his father was a failure, a bloody plumber. He pulled back his hair, slicking it back. Plastered to his face was a psychotic grin.

The first of many.


	4. Hurt

**Hey! So here's chapter four, I hope you enjoy it, and you can tell me by hitting the review button at the bottom! The last chapter was pretty harsh, and this one is basically Edward trying to put himself back together and his second steps to becoming the Riddler! Thanks! BTW still don't own Edward, only the smoking woman XD**

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><p>"Why the hell are you sleeping here kid?" a voice awoke Edward from his sleep, after screaming at the sky and getting beaten up, he had been exhausted. He looked up to see a smoking woman with curlers still in her hair looking down at him.<p>

She gasped at the site of his face, "Oh my god, are you all right?"

"Do I really look all right?" Edward sighed; really his face probably looked like he tried to pick a fight with a gorilla.

"I should call an ambulance, what happened to you?" she bent down almost touching his face, but she couldn't in case it brought the boy pain. Edward felt a pang of guilt for being sarcastic to the woman as she was truly worried about him.

He shook his head, "I don't want to pay for the bills, it'll be ok. I'll buy some band aids and Advil."

"Dear, this is going to take a lot more than band aids to heal that," she looked as if she was about to cry.

Edward knew the truth in her words, he couldn't see out of one eye because it had swollen up too much. The other felt bruised. His face stung where cuts were open, he didn't even want to look in a mirror. The woman bent down to hug Edward but he pushed her away. Strangers weren't supposed to hug you, parents were. But how was that going to happen if his father preferred punching to kindness and his mother had died when he was just a baby. Sometimes he suspected that his dad had done her in. The only thing that kept him from running away was the fact that his father had kept him, hadn't given him away, provided him with food, given him a home. But that last strand of hope had been cut with most of his face.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, it seemed to baffle her how another human being could do this to another. "Were you mugged?"

Edward couldn't help but laugh, "If only," and then for some reason he kept talking. It felt nice to be honest, to let go of his secrets. But at the same time, if he lied, it would only remind him of his father accusing him of cheating.

"My father, the stupid bastard. I won some money at school and he was jealous. So he took the money and beat the crap out of me," he laughed again but winced this time gripping his ribs. He had almost forgotten about his chest.

The woman's mouth was agape, "Beat you with what? A baseball bat? This is unacceptable, I should call the cops."

Edward shook his head, "Nah, not worth it." He paused, "I wouldn't mind something to eat," he grinned sheepishly. The woman could only stare at Edward's ruined face; she looked shocked that Edward didn't really care too much. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and he was a bit surprised at how little he cared too.

"Of course, I'll bring it up here. I don't think the neighbours would let you leave without care," the woman stood up looked over at Edward and proceeded back down the stairs.

Liar.

He knew where she really was going, to call the cops. Probably didn't even believe his story. Edward didn't waste any time he jumped back onto the fire escape, made sure his book and cube were in his sweater pocket.

"Why is everyone trying to trick me?" he pondered out loud. And it was true, the teachers, his father, this woman, and even himself. Well he found joy when he pulled the wool over peoples' eyes and he felt joy when he figured out another's plan.

Edward carefully landed on his feet, wincing in pain. He hobbled forward, and noticed people giving him odd looks. He stopped beside a store window, this was the moment.

"Shit," was the only thing he could say when he saw his reflection. He touched his face, the damage was brutal, but the swelling wasn't too bad. Probably from the cold of the night, but bruises were forming on most of his face. If not there was a cut in that one area. Edward pulled his hood on and collar up. He had to go to a pharmacy, and there was no way he was going to school today.

The bell rang as he pushed open the door of store, and he kept his head low and grabbed bandages, cream, alcohol wipes, gauze, an eye patch, aspirin and some cover-up. It was embarrassing to buy makeup, but he'd need it if he wanted to move normally through society again.

"That be everything?" the cashier was a young woman chewing loudly on her gum. She didn't even bother to look at her customers face.

Edward muttered quietly, "Yes, thank you."

"32.90"

He pulled out his wallet and slid over two twenties. He didn't mind spending money; he had bought most of the things over the internet illegally. Stealing other peoples information with the internet around was simple. After the site sent the product, he hacked in and deleted the sender information, simple yet effective. Spending his school days reading books and sites to teach him hacking skills had its benefits. Not on his grades of course.

After walking a few more blocks he made a stop at a fast food restaurant, he slid through the crowds of people demanding breakfast to the washroom. Thankfully the washrooms were made for one person.

"At least the bleeding stopped," Edward stated at his reflection. He worked quickly in case someone knocked. A quick rinse of the face and the dabbing of the wipes left his face stinging in pain. He put Polysporin on the cuts and band aids on top of them. He put added the cover-up on the bruises and placed the eye patch over his eye. The eye patch had two functions, stop anyone from noticing that he had been punched and to evoke pity in strangers. People would see him and think he lost his eye and they would leave him alone and not ask questions.

He'd already had an excuse if they asked, "I got mugged." Not only would it explain all of his injuries, but the teachers would feel as if they were to blame. For giving him the hundred dollars.

Edward looked up at his face again. It looked as if he had been beaten up a bit, but not nearly to the extent that occurred. The bandages looked odd, but didn't show his cuts.

He opened and closed his hands, clenching and then unfolding them, "Why me?" Edward said out loud. As much as he was glad he felt free from his father, he felt lonely. No one to call, to tell how much it fucking hurt, physically and emotionally. He was alone with his thoughts. He slammed his fists which had gauze wrapped around them.

"Screw other people, I don't need them. I can do everything on my own," he nodded at himself. His hair had dried slicked back, though it was still messy, Edward felt like some sort of suave business man. His blues seemed brighter with a slight purplish colour around them. With all the injuries his thin face looked thinner and the light made his pale skin look almost sickly. He turned away from the mirror.

As he walked out the restaurant, he knew where he was going to stay. He walked briskly toward the centre of the city of Gotham. He noticed something abnormal about the other citizens though. They walked quicker than usual, heads down, as if the dared not to look at anyone. If Edward remembered correctly, there had been something on the news about some big shot from China had been given to police. And something about the gangs of Gotham being taken down and if that was true, why would people be scared?

Edward shrugged it off, stupid criminals and he meant it literally. They just wanted money, or they somehow got a kick out of killing people. Those were those true psychopaths. These criminals just wanted an easy ride through life. But Edward wanted the opposite, he wanted a challenge. Something or someone to give his genius a run for its money. An outlet for his creativity. To show the world his brilliance. And he agreed, after cheating on the puzzle, the rush of doing something _wrong_ was amazing. The chance he could get caught, but of course they were just too stupid.

He came to a stop in front of Gotham's library. The boy didn't head to the front door. He opened a door that said "Employees only" on the side and now stood in a beige room. He looked at the ceiling and found the one square he was looking for.

"Home sweet home," he grinned as he pulled a chair from a table and climbed into the ceiling. Edward crawled slowly across a metal bar until he reached the solid floor.

Around him was an old, long forgotten wing of the library. Once it served as the office of an engineer that went mad, there was a small staircase that leads to another floor with old bookcases filled with books. Many of which were studies of Leonardo Da Vinci. But also a few of Edward's belongs, a cord that siphoned off the library's power, and a window that looked out on Gotham.

A younger Edward used to hide in the library from his father, it felt safe, this place of knowledge. He had studied most of the books in the library since he could read. Mostly non-fiction, Edward felt like a vessel for mankind, a beaker of knowledge. He felt he knew more than any teacher could teach.

And he wanted to show off, but he knew he'd be bullied. There would always be people jealous of him. Like his father. On top of that, he wasn't a physically threatening person, and no friends to protect him.

He pushed all the thoughts off his mind and sat in a moth eaten couch. He didn't touch the books on Leonardo Da Vinci. With so much stress and pain, he just wanted to relax. So he took the book out of his sweater and began to read.

The Book of Riddles.


	5. Riddles

**Back, kinda of sad there are no new reviews :( BUT I WILL PREVAIL! Plus I'm caught up in writing for Edward. I really do feel bad for the guy. Anyway a lot of this chapter is development and please enjoy and review if you'd kindly! (That means you have to now.)**

**K**

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><p>"Today marks a day of mourning as Commissioner Loeb's funeral is underway. The loss of such a great man taken from us in short notice, we send our regards to Loeb's family," the newswoman stated, no emotion on her face.<p>

The whole school was in the gymnasium watching Commissioner Loeb's funeral on a projector. The city thought the man should be honoured for his sacrifices to the city. Edward's head was in his hand as his elbow rested on the back of the empty chair beside him.

He could care less of the ceremony, the only reason he came to watch it was because it was rumoured the mayor of going to be assassinated. Some insane man dressed as a clown had apparently written about it in the obituaries. The police of course said there was no need to panic, and the mayor was in no danger. Edward didn't really mind if the mayor's life got cut short, he was an idiotic moron who didn't care for anything but his political platform.

But Edward's mind was only on one thing, riddles.

The past week Edward had dived into the world of these enigmas, he found them ingenious. Of course he had solved most of them, but the ones he didn't once he read the answer, it had been like his eyes were opened.

That was all that was going through his head at the moment. He had read one out to the woman near his table at a restaurant. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but then she gave him an odd look and looked away. She didn't know! But as most self-absorbed humans she didn't want to look stupid.

The sound of a shot broke his daydreams of riddles. He looked up, but it was the rifle firing, honouring the Commissioner's death. He went back to daydreaming.

Riddle me this, riddle me that… the words simply floated through his mind.

Screams broke the firing of bullets, on screen and off. Teachers were standing now and teenagers looking from one to another. A couple girls had their hands clasped to their mouths. Edward looked up in surprise, what had happened?

"Breaking news! A shot has been fired, fortunately a brave policeman has taken the bullet for the mayor," a newsman at the scene was yelling over the crowd, trying to avoid getting trampled. The whole gym was silent. The newsman pressed his finger to his ear, "It does not appear the man will survive, the shot was fired from one of the men firing rifles. The police appear to have taking into custody a couple of the fake officer. It is unsure if the one named "Joker" is among them. In these terrifying times we can only rely-" the feed was cut off, the principle had apparently pulled the plug.

"Will all students please return to their classrooms please," the announcement somehow calmed most of the students. Funny thought Edward, how one woman's voice with a hint of authority was able to stop panic. It was probably the idea of order, and the fact people knew that she was there to help and keep them safe.

It must be nice having that amount of effect, to have people show you some respect. Edward sighed, oh well he decided to hit his locker to grab his things before heading to class.

"Hey Edward!" the girl who had asked him he was participating in the quiz said. "Are you okay? You haven't been in class, I heard you got mugged."

This took Edward by surprise, "Oh yah, stole my money." His face was still bruised but the cuts were healed. Also he could finally open his eyes fully, but still looked like a raccoon.

"Oh my god Edward! Are you really all right?" she asked finally looking at his face.

He realized something, if this girl was talking to him, would she answer his riddles? Test her logic against his? "My life can be measured in hours, I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe. What am I?"

"Sorry what?" the girl was confused.

Edward explained, eager to hear an answer, "It's a riddle, indulge me if you would?"

The girl starred back confused, she appeared to thinking of the answer, "You're a bit odd aren't you," She ended up saying and walking away. Edward sighed and began opening and closing his hands again. Why would no one ever just answer him?

He shoved his papers into his backpack in no apparent order, not putting them in the way usually did, by size. Instead he took a marker and scrawled the riddle he had just asked the girl on a page of his notebook.

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><p>As the stress and fear in Gotham elevated with the threats of the Joker. Though the police had claimed that they had taken the Joker into custody, apparently he escaped. After blowing up a hospital, he now threatened the city if they did not join the game he would kill them. The man was truly a psychopath, but Edward was struck with how Joker described the whole ordeal as a game.<p>

It was so true wasn't it, life just being a game. There were rules, and players. Everything cost a price and people lost. And finally you could cheat. People could catch you and you'd lose, but get away and you would get everything you desire.

Edward sighed, but then why was life so boring. So plain, so ordinary. Something needed to spice up life a bit. Give everyone a reason to live and a bit of adrenaline in everyday life. Would people actually enjoy that? Edward pondered for a moment, who played a video game about living a boring, normal life?

Actually being normal sucked, even Edwards dream had been normal. Something his father probably thought he'd end up doing. Go to school, get a job, car, wife, family and spend the rest of his life trying to buy things he really didn't need.

He was tired of being normal, and he wanted to be special. Actually he was already special, if only the rest of the people knew it. Edward opened a new book on riddles he had borrowed from the library below him. At least these riddles offered him some entertainment that allowed him to use his superior mind. These tests of logic were actually incredible amounts of fun. They were like hints with words that had hidden meanings.

However Edward realized that this book was a sad comparison to the one he had won. The riddles were nothing compared to the last one. More comedic rather than thought provoking. Still a riddle was a riddle.

It had been a few weeks since he had taken off from his dad's house. Something in his heart had wanted his father to look for him or call the police or school. But nothing, no one realized he was not living at home anymore. Typical, Edward had no idea why he thought his moron of a father would care. It was like another stab to the heart and each time his father died again in his mind. And each time Edward enjoyed the imagined screams of suffering.

He put the book down and grabbed his jacket. The injuries were almost healed, minus a bit of scarring and the bruises were more yellow. After a bit of climbing he found himself back on the streets of Gotham. Citizens were in a mass panic, and there was a traffic jam heading towards the docks. Apparently Joker had threatened the bridge or something and no one wanted to be a part of the game.

Edward climbed up onto a tall apartment that overlooked the streets and all the way to the dock. None of this made sense, Joker wanted everyone to play his game. No one would participate in a game that involved your life unless something huge and expensive was offered or you were forced. And since Joker had nothing to offer, Edward smelled foul play.

If all these people thought the bridge was dangerous, they'd ferry out of Gotham, the only other way out. Edward sighed, stupid idiots. Something was obviously wrong with the boats, and with all the rushing and panicking, he was willing to bet the police hadn't checked over them to well.

Edward sat down at the ledge of the building and pulled out his laptop. He pulled out his smartphone, and turned on the news. Listening to the morons panic over the welfare of the city and its people. While doing this Edward figured no one was watching the Gotham banks so he proceeded to rob a bit of money from each person, in all likelihood no one would even notice.

If they were still here tomorrow, they'd be thankful they were even alive.


	6. Sister

**Sorry for the long break, lots of school stuff. Anyone here's the next chapter! The birth of the Riddler is soon to be revealed! Enjoy and thank you for the reviews! I enjoy getting them :D**

K

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><p>About an hour had passed and Edward had stolen approximately 50 thousand dollars, quite well for one night. He was ready to call it quits and head home but was interrupted by a gruff, tall stranger grabbing him by his face and throwing him away from his computer.<p>

"Who the fuck is this kid? I thought this building was clear!" the man was dressed like a doctor for some strange reason. However he was maybe 18 or 17, he had two companions with him another teenager in scrubs and a small teen girl in what appeared to be a hospital gown, with shorts underneath it.

The girl walked as if she was afraid to make noise to peer at Edward's computer.

"Get away from that!" Edward shouted trying to break the taller teens grip.

She looked at Edward curiously and he noticed the dark circle of a black eye. "He's doing banking or something," she stated, Edward hypothesized she was not computer savvy and did not understand he was stealing. But he was ok with that. "Also he's got like windows opened to look at riddles," she gave him an odd look, and Edward could see the curiosity in her blue eyes.

"Ok riddle boy, what the fuck are you doing here?" the blonde, loud one yelled again, pulling a sub-machine gun from under his doctor jacket. Edward squawked oddly and tried to scramble away, he squeaked as he hit the legs of someone else. The dark haired, sullen teenager in scrubs looked down at him with no amusement, this teen was younger maybe 16.

Edward squeaked, "Nothing! I was just sitting here!"

The small girl grabbed Edward by the collar of his shirt and she looked deeply into his eyes. He could only look back in fear, she was frail and the dark but healing bruises on her face indicated she had been in a couple scuffles. There was a calmness in her eyes though, some sort of look that said she understood the world. She tossed him aside, "He's telling the truth, he has no fucking idea who we are."

The oldest teen closed his eyes and slowly brought his arms down, "Ok, ok, everything is still going according to plan, no need to call the boss." He turned to look at the other boy, "So other than that, this building is basically clear?"

He nodded and pulled out a zippo lighter. Flicking off the lid he walked to the ledge and lit a flame. The dark haired boy waved his arm through the air, sending a signal to the empty, unfinished building across.

"What about riddle boy?" the girl asked.

The older boy pointed at the dark haired boy and girl, "You two take him out of here, watch him until this is all over. I'll go back and tell them you're taking out the trash."

"Not fair Grimm, we wanted in on this," the dark haired boy finally spoke up.

The girl pulled him back, "Let it go." With that the boy named Grimm took off leaving Edward with the girl and dark haired boy.

"What's you're deal Sister? We were supposed to be a part of this! We were supposed to make history! Not babysit some lunatic on a roof!" he gestured at Edward who sat there afraid to move.

"Sister" rolled her eyes, "Can you really be that stupid Ink? The Joker doesn't appreciate us he's just using us as a distraction so he can have his stupid showdown with Batman." She closed her eyes and shrugged, "We won't be seeing Grimm again for a bit, he'll be behind bars."

Ink looked shocked but didn't reply, so Sister turned to Edward who looked up at her.

"So, you. We're going to get the hell out of here, and you're going to come with us. You can leave after shit blows up, literally or figuratively."

Edward stuttered a reply, "Look I won't go to the cops! Just let me go and you guys can go back to that… thing!"

The girl tutted and shook her finger, "I'd rather stay out of jail, plus I've got a good feeling about you."

"Come on, we don't need him. Let's just go!" he put a hand on her shoulder. Sister stopped moving instantly and jerked away from his touch. Ink retracted his hand pressed it to his head, "Aw man, I'm sorry Sis. I forgot."

The girl looked away, "No, no it's fine, I'm just overreacting." She gave a less enthusiastic look at Edward, "Ok riddle boy, we're going."

Edward grabbed all of his things, shoving them in his bag. Sister looked out at the building across while Ink watched him while he packed. Ink rolled up his sleeves revealing a large tattoo that went all the way up his arm and onto his chest. He then left heading down before Edward and Sister.

"Who are you people?" Edward asked quietly.

Sister looked up, "Hmm? A gang I guess. I like to think of them as family."

"But you're letting that other guy go get himself arrested," Edward argued.

She shrugged, "Sometimes you have to let people grow and learn."

Edward was still confused, "Are you guys like all orphans?"

She shook her head, "Nah, I have a father, mother left. Ink's parents dote on his sister and Grimm's just don't give a shit. And why the hell are you sitting on a building surfing the net while the whole city panics, isn't your family worried?"

"My dad is just," he caught himself still referring to his father as family and cringed. He still wasn't used to it.

"Just what?" Sister asked curiously, when Edward didn't answer she shrugged it off. "So what's your name riddle boy?"

Edward answered, "Well what's your name?" He placed each piece of equipment carefully and neatly into its spot into the bag.

"Hmm, true."

"Why are you called Sister?" Edward clenched his fists open and closed with an annoyed look on his face when Sister accidently knocked over his bag with her leg.

She replied, "I was the only girl, everyone's' sister. My full nickname I suppose you could say is Little Sister, I do the sneaky delicate things, and the boys do the brute force. Like the video game," she grinned. Every time she grinned Edward got the oddest feeling of deceit. "Well hurry up and get your ass moving!" she told him, his computer back on the ground, "Just shove it in your bag!"

Edward growled quietly and clenched his hands open and closed again, without thinking he blurted, "What grows bigger the more you take away from it!"

"What?" Sister exclaimed, confused.

He pushed the laptop and cords in randomly, without a single hand clench, "You heard me."

"You really are riddle boy, aren't you?" she grinned. She pointed at the door, "Don't care dude."

Disappointed, Edward threw his bag over his shoulder, still no one answered the riddles, why not? They didn't have to so they didn't, he guessed. He pulled his coat tighter on his body, he suddenly felt incredibly lonely. No one ever listened to them. And they should! He was smart, brilliant and not that bad looking. He pushed his brown hair to the side and followed Sister out of the building.

The girl was nimble and light on her feet. She didn't make a sound walking, and when Edward looked closer he noticed that she was walking on her toes. She spoke to them as they walked down the stairs, "So I assume you go to school?"

"Um, yah, last year at high school," Edward was creeped out by the small talk.

Sister kept chatting with the fake happiness that Edward could hear in her voice, "Well I'd be in 11 if I was still there," she paused as if the memory saddened her. "But who needs school right? I'd rather spend more time with my family."

What a liar, was all Edward could think. But somehow this girl mystified him, how she had thrown away her blood family for a gang. And now she was proud to be scum? Didn't she want to do anything with her life? She probably left for some dumb reason, nothing like he did.

They reached the bottom of the building and walked through the doors, "Ok, Ink will take you to someplace that you'll have to stay till we're in the clear. I've got to go home for a bit, but I'll be back at night," she cringed slightly, interesting Edward.

"What? I thought you're gang was your family," Edward questioned, Sister gave him a sad look.

She stuttered, "Well, you see. It's just I have to go home. I just have to."

He was about to question more but noticed Ink shaking his head at Edward from behind Sister. With that she turned to walk a different way, leaving Ink and Edward. At the exact same time convicts were being loaded onto a boat. The curtains were drawn on the nights events, soon things were about to change.


	7. The Same

**Another chappy! Notes for this chapter are at the bottom due to spoilers, please read them! Enjoy and please review.**

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><p>Edward followed a few feet behind Ink who was walking quickly towards wherever their destination was. He seemed slightly furious at him, making Edward more nervous. He contemplated running from Ink but feared that the other boy despite being younger was faster and stronger. This was most likely as Edward was never the most fit person in the world.<p>

"No," Ink said, stopping suddenly. It surprised Edward who walked right into his back.

Worried that he still wanted to follow Grimm and that Edward himself had prevented this, Edward asked nervously, "What?"

Ink pointed at Edward who shrunk back, "We're going after her."

"What? I thought she was just going home," Edward questioned.

It was dark outside now, and the emotions on Ink's face were shrouded by the darkness. However Edward could see Ink full out cringe. "None of your business Riddle boy," he replied, "Just move your ass," Ink pushed Edward the other way.

Confused Edward followed the boy, he was pretty sure that Ink had a gun. Ink had ditched the scrubs but now he had on a baggy sweater. Edward grumbled under his breath, this guy was treating him like trash, just like everyone else did. Why was he always being stepped on? He had run away from his oppressor, he stole money, was pretty rich for an 18 year old, a genius, but still he was a nobody.

"Here," Ink stopping suddenly again and yet again Edward walked right into him. Edward shuddered when he realized they were in the Narrows. He didn't know much about the area, mostly that something big between Jonathon Crane and Batman had gone down here. It was never a good neighbourhood before but was even worse now. Edward was way out of his comfort zone.

They stopped in front of dark house, one of the few in the area. The yard was overgrown with broken furniture littering the front. He could see through the dirty window Sister was standing with her back to them. She was dressed and a dirty shirt and jeans and appeared to be talking to someone they couldn't see. He could only hear muffled conversation rather than full words.

Ink pulled Edward behind a bush they could still see through, "If he lays one hand on her…" he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Edward was tired of being confused and asking the same thing over and over again. He made a mental note of swearing he'd always be the one confusing people in the future.

As if Ink just realized Edward was still with him, he answered, "Her dad."

"He hits her?" Edward acknowledged. The idea hit a bit too close to home. Not that Edward really knew but his connection with this girl became a little stronger. A slight twinge in his heart in pity.

A sad look in Ink's eyes and a shake of his head made Edward more confused. No physical abuse? If not that…

It hit Edward like a sledgehammer and he peeked through the bush again. An older man well built with leery, tiny eyes. A creep was standing in front of Sister, who was trembling slightly. Her head hung down as she looked down at the ground. He saw her clutching her arms which were cross armed tightly. So tight Edward could see the white marks of pressure. He knew that tactic, more pain before, less pain while being beaten. But she wasn't being beaten.

Sister's father brought his hand up to her face stroking her cheek. It made Edward sick to the stomach. Her father's hand slipped lower and Edward turned around quickly squeezing his eyes closed. It's not happening, this isn't happening, no one was this sick were the thoughts racing through his mind. No, no, no. He heard a rustle beside him and when he looked Ink had taken off. More fury burned for him to see this disgusting act against his "sister".

Edward still refused to look, still afraid to look at the real monster of the world. A slam of the door, he heard yelling from the house between Ink and the monster. Edward turned around he saw the monster with a shotgun holding onto Sister while Ink was getting up from the ground. Sister wasn't wearing a shirt but only a ratty bra. Ink had a bloody nose while the monster had a cut lip. Sister was screaming and crying, trying to stop the monster. A shot broke the screams. The monster had shot at Ink.

Breaking glass broke the muted fight, and it was as if someone had turned on the sound. Ink was screaming now. Lying on the grass, bloodied from the glass and a bullet wound was Sister. She had jumped in front of Ink, wanting to save her "brother". With some sort of animalistic scream Ink jumped at the monster. The monster pumped and fired another shot. A miss and Ink was punching at its face.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Edward mumbled, he had to get out of here. He got up to leave but saw the body of Sister move slightly. She was still alive.

He couldn't leave her here, could he? If he wanted to live he would he tried to tell himself. But something deeper than his own usually loud wants spoke to him. A connection to this girl, he couldn't leave her with the monster. How many times had he wished that someone would whisk him off from his father?

Edward grabbed the girl's body quickly and she was light fortunately for Edward's weak arms. Another shot made his adrenaline pump he looked up to see another shot.

Ink's head blew up.

A scream escaped Edward's lips before he could suppress it. Blood hit his face and panic filled his veins along with his flight instinct. The monster yelled something at Edward, it lifted its gun. Edward shot off clutching the girl tightly to his chest. He heard the man jump through the window onto the broken glass but Edward tore around a corner and booked it down the alleyway. Several random turns later, he found himself near the edge of the harbour front. Jumping down onto the sand of the tides that had pulled away, he hid himself in a hidden tunnel under the road. There were small lights which displayed how pale Sister had become from lack of blood.

Edward pulled out his smart phone he dialed 911. All he got was a busy tone apparently all of Gotham was worried about that god damn clown. "No!" he screamed at the phone. He threw it against the wall in furry. Not only that but all the hospitals were shut down, or in one place's case, blown up.

"Riddle boy?" her name for him was barely a whisper.

Edward nodded, "Yah, I'm here."

"You took me away?" there was a lot of blood leaking from her stomach, Edward applied pressure. Deep down he knew it was useless though, unless a miracle happened.

He decided to keep talking to her, "Yah."

"Why? You don't know me."

Edward looked down embarrassed, something he couldn't answer. What could he say? It was a gut feeling? An instinct?

"You're like me aren't you?"

He looked into her bright blue eyes which were slowly clouding, "How..?"

She grinned while coughing a bit of blood, "I, I always had this thing. I could sense things when I looked in people's eyes. Maybe it's because my dad never really spoke to me," a flash of intense pain flashed over her face when she mentioned her father. "But I could see you were like me. Broken. Defeated. Ripped apart. Wearing a mask. I saw you at school once years ago, a blank look on your face until someone spoke to you. Then you'd pull that stupidly fake smile on," she laughed painfully again.

"But when I looked into your eyes. I knew you had my same pain. Never good enough."

She was crying slightly now, and Edward could feel his own eyes burning. "My mom left, my dad saw her me in her every day. He'd tell me that, tell me I'm beautiful, I looked just like her, and smelt like her. But I always knew he was speaking to mom not me. We're never smart enough, pretty enough, or good enough to live are we to them?"

The tears intermixed with her own blood, "And now Ink's dead, Grimm's going to jail. I'm a terrible sister aren't I?" The blood was soaking Edward's hands and clothes but he could only look at her face.

"But I can do one last thing, Riddler," she laughed, "The name suits you." She moved on, "Riddler, I want you to become great. I want you to show everyone who you are. You can be great, I know it. I know you know it. Show them all Riddler, show them all how strong you really are. Show them who you are. Stop being fake, stop following the rules. Live your life, make them do what you want," she gasped in pain, "Never let anyone keep you down again."

Her eyes were almost gone, "One last thing, come closer," she whispered. Edward leaned down.

She pressed her lips against his, strongly. It took Edward by surprise but he didn't pull away. They were soft, and foreign to him. She stopped kissing him and Edward pulled away swiftly. He was afraid.

"I've always wanted a real one," Sister muttered as her breath disappeared and her eyes became glass. At the very same time the Joker was being thrown from a very high building.

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><p><strong>AN: This has to be one of the most difficult and sad things I've written. I mean Riddler's past was depressing but Sister's makes me sick. Especially since I created the characters. However this is another big thing in Edward's life, and he just keeps falling down into the descent of becoming The Riddler. Serious note though if you are being abused, physically, emotionally or sexually by ANYONE you tell someone immediately. If you know a friend that's abused I want you guys to tell someone else or be there for them. Understand their pain and don't just brush it off because they do. And they will! Just love them because they will feel incredibly lonely.**

** K**


	8. The Riddler

**Hi! Thank you so much to "Bootless Errand" and "Raven Lenore Robins" for your reviews! They made my day :D Here's the next chapter! Enjoy and review thanks!**

**K**

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><p>Edward didn't even realize he was sobbing, "This isn't happening!" he screamed at the body scrambling away. "You're not dead, you can't be dead!" he wailed gripping his head. The image of Ink's head blowing up into little bits seemed burned into his mind. The look of Sister's life slipping away in her eyes wouldn't leave.<p>

He screamed louder realizing his hands were covered in her blood, "Please! Let me wake up!" Edward held his hands out trying not to think about what was covering most of him.

And he couldn't stop crying, she had been younger than him, lived through terrible hardships and now she wouldn't even get to live the rest of her life. It was so unfair.

A hate replaced the sadness when he thought of the monster. That bastard that dirty, evil, disgusting piece of filth, were the thoughts increasing the anger. Edward gripped tried wiping the blood off his hands.

Death, such a dirty word in Edward's mind, the ultimate fate of every single person on the planet. It was something he had thought of quite a bit, one of the things that consoled him while living with his father.

This girl brought back many fears for Edward, the fear of being forgotten, being nothing just like his father always told him. He bit his lip to stop crying. He'd end up like this girl, dead, soon to be forgotten, just another victim of abuse. Just another statistic.

He opened and closed his hands, trying to regain self-control. No, he would step it up. He'll be in control now. Edward would become the master of his own fate. And the master of everyone else's.

Edward stepped out of tunnel, leaving behind the body and his doubts.

It was time for the Riddler to step up.

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><p>Nightmares had haunted his dreams for a week now. No one noticed Edward getting paler and paler. No one noticed the dark circlers growing larger. The news that filled the school was about the Attorney, Harvey Dent who had been killed. And the news that Batman had apparently killed about four people. Many people were surprised and some even doubted the police report. But no one argued.<p>

Edward stopped sleeping as he could only see the dead eyes' of Sister in his dreams. His own screams filled his ears, and he would drown in blood. But he had already been putting his first plan of revenge to work. The monster had told the police its daughter had been killed by some street thugs. The body was still missing but the police didn't care. The story was printed on the 29 page, and no one cared. But Edward cared, and he'd get revenge for her. The medication he had been secretly slipping the monster should take affect soon. A few crushed pills here and there in his food or drink. However Edward still wondered if he would be able to go through with it. It made him sick to the stomach just thinking about it.

In between putting his plan into action and not sleeping. Riddles still filled Edward's life. Day and night they filled his mind trying to drive out the images of Ink and Sister. But there were never enough Riddles.

"Ed?" the hated nickname made Edward jump up in fright.

It was Mr. Marks, Edward had forgotten he was even in physics. Mr. Marks placed his hand on Edward's shoulder making Edward cringe. "What's gotten into you? You didn't do much work in my class to begin with but no you don't even listen," the look on Mr. Marks face was one of disgust and anger.

Edward wanted to punch him in the face, no comment on the fact he didn't look like he had slept at all. Or the fact that if Edward wasn't tapping his fingers quietly, he'd start shaking. And no notice to the fact Edward's clothes were crumpled or the fact his hair was sticking up in every direction. Oh no, Mr. Marks wanted to know why Edward couldn't concentrate in his class.

Looking up at Mr. Marks with his eyes wide with sadness, he was too tired to be angry, Edward simply shrugged. Mr. Marks sighed as if Edward was disrespecting him, and started to write on the board again.

Edward's head hit the desk. He couldn't do this anymore suffer through these stupid, stupid people. Maybe it was time he showed them how he really disrupted the class.

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><p>The Riddler had picked the classroom at random, set up the TV, the recording, and then placed a small camera to film the students' reactions. Watching on his smart phone, the Riddler almost giggled in excitement, but controlled himself to keep himself from seeming insane.<p>

"Who put the TV here? I told you we weren't watching a video today," the bored sounding teacher said. She was about to push away the TV but stopped when the screen suddenly flickered on.

"Heelllllooooo kids!" the voice was garbled and the image on the screen was a green question mark. "Welcome to class! Today we shall be studying something fun." The box under the TV fell apart, the mechanism working as it was programmed to. "How to stop a bomb!" the voice told the students.

The look on the faces of the students made the Riddler grin in delight, fear swept through the classroom. A silence hung over the room like a large storm cloud. "It can't be real, the guy's lying," one student suggested but his voice wavered, unsure in himself.

"I know what you're thinking guys. You think this isn't a real bomb! But I only have one riddle for you," a pause, a silence through the room, the one thing the Riddler had always wanted. "Wanna test me?"

The teacher was in shock, but the screen gave her the rules, "So before we start the test, I want to tell you what you can't do. Touch any phones, and you're dead. Scream for help, you're dead. Touch the bomb, and you're dead. We clear?"

More silence, music to the Riddler's ears. "Good! Now for the fun! I give you some riddles, one light goes off for every one you get right." The class looked down at the bomb, it had six lights in total, and only three were on. "Get one wrong, one light goes on. If all six lights go on. KAPOW!" the yell made several students jump and grip their mouths to keep from screaming. Most students were shaking in fear and the teacher was still stunned out of commission.

"First riddle, the more I dry, the wetter I get. What am I?" the voice asked. The room was silent, the Riddler grimaced looking at the scene through his phone, still no one would answer. "5, 4, 3-"

"Towel!" one student screamed out in a panic. The microphone picked up the voice, analyzed it and calculated that it was the right answer.

The garbled voice answered, "Correct! Congratulations." A slight "ding" sound was heard and a light faded out. "Ready for the next one?"

"Please! Stop! We don't want any trouble, let us go!" a student tried to argue.

The machine ignored her, "What goes around the world but stays in a corner?"

Another student started yelling, "We don't want to die!"

There was an angry buzzing noise and every student start giving the boy who had spoken up a dirty look. But the fear was prominent in their eyes still, "Shut up! You're going to get us killed," one girl hissed at him.

"Well I'm sorry that's incorrect!" the voice continued without even announcing it, "You throw away the outside, cook the inside. Then you eat the outside and throw away the inside. What did you just eat?"

Silence filled the room while the student in a panic argued quietly with each other. Many random things were thought up, "5, 4, 3, 2-"

"Banana!" someone screamed in desperation.

The class screamed in retaliation, "NO!"

But the damage was done, "I'm sorry that's incorrect." The ugly noise sounded again as another light turned on, making it four.

"Are you stupid Grace?" someone jumped up to attack her, but another boy held her down. "Our lives are on the line!"

The voice continued on, "You use a knife to slice my head, but weep when I am dead. What am I?"

Every student was afraid to speak up now. Each one could only stare at the bomb, only two more lights. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." The buzzing news filled the room striking more fear into their hearts. Another light turned on.

"I am very disappointed in you guys, you refuse to play?"

"Yah I do!" one student yelled angry, with a sudden movement he stood up and grabbed the bomb and threw it to at a wall before any other students could protest.

It was a toy, no bomb, only bits of mechanics. The class was shocked, they had been tricked. The Riddler sighed, his game had failed, even when they had thought they were in danger they hadn't really complied. They still didn't take him seriously.

What the Riddler didn't know was how people didn't really like being tricked.


	9. Revenge

**Hello, I'm back after a long break. I had exams but now there over :D ANYWAY BIG CHAPTER! Some stuff I wanna say is do not wrry the Riddler isn't quite himself yet. Mostly because he just a has a crap load of emotions going on right now. Thank you so much to Ariddle-Ascare and Deceptoin-silverstreak for the comments! I love to read input! So please enjoy!**

**K**

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><p>Edward hung his head down low tapping his fingers on his desk in an irregular pattern that seemed to hold significance only to him. Riddle after riddle was repeated one after another in his head, trying to drive out the memories of everything. His body couldn't take all of the thoughts, it was killing him slowly. Not since yesterday when he had tried to force people to answer his riddles, when people almost followed his rules, had he been able to relax. The school was unable to pinpoint the bomb threat on one student. The police declared they had bigger things to worry about, as the trial for the Joker was coming up and the mobs were restless as they tried to find new leaders. A school's "practical" joke was the least of their worries.<p>

The bell rang and Edward clutched his ears, the loud noises only making his migraine worse. As the students filed out with the teacher, Edward stayed back, desiring the silence. However he did not notice the 4 students who stayed back as he continued to stare at his desk.

One of them bumped into his desk, and Edward's neatly piled papers shifted. He clutched his hands open and closed and his stress level rose. His feelings changed from anger to fear as a pair of hands shoved everything off his desk.

"Hey, weirdo!" the muscled boy grabbed Edward by his collar and pulled him out of his chair.

Edward protested, his underlining, growing anger was overshadowed by this panic he so hated, "Please, what do you want?" God, he was so tired of begging, so tired of being helpless. He was the smart one, why was he always being overpowered?

The boys put him down but pushed Edward forward, Edward obeyed and walked forward. They left the classroom and were soon outside behind the school, where no one went.

"We know it was you loser. Jenna told us all about you asking her riddles like some whack job," the apparent leader of the group accused.

Edward tried to play innocent, "I don't know what you're talking about! I-"

The boy patted Edward on the cheek, cutting him off, "Stop lying asshole. You scared a lot of people. It wasn't funny."

"I didn't-" he was cut off again, but not by a pat. A swift punch to the stomach, he fell to his knees coughing.

"What did I say about lying? Now we're going to show you something else that's not funny, the boy stepped on Edward's hand, who screamed but gagged as one of the boys shoved a piece of fabric in his mouth. "Getting the crap beat out of you."

One of them kicked him in the side, a spasm of pain spread across Edward's body. His screams were silent, but his tears spilled out of his eyes.

"Aw you regret it now Ed?" a different bully pulled Edward's head up by his hair, "Should've thought of that before you decided be stupid."

He wasn't stupid, no he was billions of times smarter than these worthless meatbags. Edward clenched his eyes closed, and covered his head with his head.

The leader laughed claiming, "Survival of the fittest moron, and you're losing."

The bullies were relentless, Edward tried to curl up into a ball to avoid being kicked in the stomach. But they pounded on his arms and he felt new cuts forming and old ones opening on his face. Blood seeped into his mouth but he couldn't spit it out due to the piece of cloth in his mouth. Another guy was kicking his back, it hurt so badly the feelings started to go numb.

What was worse was… they were laughing at him. The jokes thrown over his body while they beat on him were bad enough but they laughed as he shook in pain and fear. Laughed at his tears and bloodied face. They reminded him of his father, thinking they were so grand and powerful because they were stronger than him.

After a few more minutes of the beating they left, laughing off to get food. So easily they forgot they had just beaten another human. Edward sobbed, even after being beaten so many times he still wasn't used to the pain. He pulled out the dirty cloth and coughed up the blood that had been stuck in his throat. He looked around his face and body were stinging, he noticed smudges of his blood almost everywhere on the ground. Looking down at his hands he noticed the blood.

He screamed in terror, his mind flew back to Sister's dying smile, Ink's body collapsing blood squirting out of the wound. Edward scrambled backwards to a wall and clutched his legs to his chest. Hiding his head in his legs he shook back and forth.

The terror subsided after 15 minutes of moaning and muttering to himself. He calmed down breathing deeply, but Edward could still not look at the blood on his hands. He was done, done with rules, with his god damn conscious. It was obvious no one would show him mercy, they were all sick, disgusting creatures. Stupid, moronic, beings that didn't deserve to live.

It was time he showed them how evil he could really be.

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><p>The man gasped and sputtered awake. He tried to move his arms but he realized he couldn't move his head arms, or legs. Shoving his head slightly he noticed leather restraints.<p>

"The hell is going on?" he was panicking, struggling to move his arms.

A young voice answered from the shadows, "Hello Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy's breath became faster and beads of sweat were easy to see even in the barely lit room. He noticed that a folding table was open with knives, power tools, wires and batteries. With a gasp he struggled to free himself.

"Please! Don't do this! My daughter was just killed recently, haven't I suffered enough?" the man tried to bargain.

The captor walked into the light. Dressed in a dark green almost plastic like jacket with tails that reached as far as his knees and on his hands he had black gloves, was a familiar face. It fit his body, slim, and was a mix between a fancy dinner jacket and hoody. His messy brown hair had a pair of dark purple goggles on top. Black pants and work boots completed the look.

It was the boy who had run away with his injured daughter.

"Remember me?" he asked. The shock on Mr. Darcy's face answered his question.

The Riddler had a calm look on his face. He had spent weeks getting ready for this moment, over two months with all his planning. He had to find the proper outfit to make his debut appearance, it came from a punk store and was rightfully on the sale rack. No normal person would wear something so odd. It was Edward's favourite colour and blood would be easily washed off. And it could still almost pass as just a normal jacket. As an added effect he had glued on a black question mark to the front of the hood. If he was going to be a different person he might as well dress as a different person.

Mr. Darcy cowered in fear, making the Riddler grin. So much power in being a freak. The smile only made Mr. Darcy even made more afraid, "Who are you?"

"Aha! A riddle!" Riddler exclaimed. He grabbed Mr. Darcy's face, so many weeks planning. Getting the equipment, slipping him the medication, getting the nerve to go through with it. The day was finally here.

"Mr. Darcy, what crime kills its intended victims but never takes a life?"

Mr. Darcy awkwardly looked at the crazed boy, no answer came to lips. Faster than either Mr. Darcy or Edward expected, Riddler picked up a small knife and plunged it into the thigh of Mr. Darcy. While he screamed in pain, Riddler came to the realization he _enjoyed _it. Ignoring the feeling he spoke to Mr. Darcy in a no nonsense tone.

"You don't answer Mr. Darcy, I hurt you," Riddler whispered. The intenseness in the Riddler's eye did not allow for question in if he was serious.

The Riddler decided to answer the riddle for him, spitting out the disgusting word like acid, "Rape!"

The man opened his eyes in fear, and Riddler could almost see the guilt in them. But it was too late for guilt. Still staring the man in the eye, Riddler dragged a finger across the wound, causing Mr. Darcy to gasp in pain.

Holding up his finger what appeared to be blood dripped off, "What colour is this Mr. Darcy?" Riddler asked as if he was talking to a 5 year-old.

Mr. Darcy only squealed in fear. With a frustrated sigh Riddler grabbed another knife and plunged it into his leg. Each time he did he could only see his father's face in the place of Mr. Darcy. While the man screamed again in pain, the Riddler grabbed Mr. Darcy's neck, screaming at him this time, "ANSWER ME! You think this is a joke? It's not, now answer the fucking question." The fury in his eyes was uncharacteristic, but the relief he felt afterwards was more addicting then any drug.

"Now, let's try this again. What colour is this?" Riddler whispered dangerously.

"Green!" Mr. Darcy screamed this time, breathing quickly. His eyes moved wildly.

The Riddler leaned in closer, "Another riddle Mr. Darcy, why is you're blood green?"

"I don't know!" the man wailed, Riddler was in a state of bliss. He was answering him, he was listening.

Grinning Riddler answered his own question, "You see Mr. Darcy I've been slipping you Sumatriptan, it's used to treat migraines. However too much and you get green blood." The Riddler rubbed the blood between his fingers, "You might be wondering why I went through all the trouble of making your blood green." He beamed at Mr. Darcy, "You're going to be my first, my message to Gotham that the stupid, disgusting creatures that we like to call citizens are going to be tested. Are any of you fit to live in my world?" With that Riddler pulled out an electric saw.

"Your daughter shall have her revenge Mr. Darcy," the Riddler gave the man a serious look while cocking his head to the side. "Every riddle you get wrong, you lose something." The Riddler pulled on his goggles and turned on the saw.

"Riddle me this…"


	10. Crime Scene

**Back! New chapter which introduces a new perspective from the cops. The cop Stewart will play a big role in the future. ANYWAY! Thank you to Ariddle-Ascare and bobbinbird for the reviews! They really do make all the difference in making my day! So enjoy this new chapter!**

**K**

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><p>"What have we got Stewart?" Gordon asked walking into the house, if you could really call it that. The new cop almost dropped his pen and paper in surprise.<p>

An attractive man if he didn't look utterly confused, "Sorry sir! I haven't seen the crime scene yet."

Gordon sighed, "Neighbours reported what they thought were screams. Patrol outside said it's like nothing they've ever seen."

"What took so long for them to get here?" Stewart questioned looking over some notes, "Says here that they came about an hour after the call."

Gordon gave out what was a mix between a sigh and a laugh, "I know you're new here Stewart but you should know why."

"Oh right, Joker's trial," Stewart acknowledged, "How'd that turn out?"

"Just like we expected, he's being sent to Arkham," Gordon flicked on the light switch leading to the basement. "Hard to not plea insanity when you dress up like a clown."

When they reached the basement, Gordon put his hands on his hips and turned away, "God damn it."

Stewart put his hands to his lips, his face turning pale. Gordon noticed and waved his hand telling to get out before he puked all over the crime scene. All Gordon could think was there was another sick fuck in the city.

What was leftover of a body was lying across a board, Gordon pulled plastic gloves onto his hands dipping his hand into what appeared to be green dripping liquid out of the "body". He rubbed it between his fingers and brought it up to nose, the familiar copper smell filled his nose. Definitely blood.

Pressing his clean hand to his head, this wasn't good. Bits of the body lay on the ground, fingers, toes, an arm, ears, eyes, everything. Lying on the table was a butchered head and torso. It was sick, from experience Gordon knew they were dealing with either a psychopath or this was all personal. More likely both were involved.

What was up with the green blood? Was it a clue? Something to ask the forensic unit later. He pulled out his flashlight looking for clues in the darkness. He found a trail green blood, following it he came to a wall. He looked up.

"What in the name of…?" was all he could say as his jaw dropped.

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><p>Gordon slammed down the beige file on the large table with 3 detectives and a couple cops. It had been almost two weeks since the green blooded murder but he had to break the news now, "I know this is nothing any of us want to hear, especially with the recent capture of Joker."<p>

The cops looked interested now, almost afraid, "We may have another psychopath on the loose in Gotham." He pressed a button on a remote and the room darkened and the projector turned on. Revealing pictured of the butchered green body. There was a murmur of conversations as the cops began mumbling to each other.

Gordon cleared his throat again getting their attention, "Greg Darcy was found dead in his house, butchered. His limbs had been cut off, it appears he had been tied down and tortured."

"Darcy? That sounds familiar," one detective pointed out.

Nodding Gordon went on, "Yes, his daughter was found dead after the whole mess with Joker and his ferries. It appears she was killed by thugs. Or what Mr. Darcy claims. We were a bit busy so the whole ordeal wasn't looked at properly. However I want you," he pointed at a blonde detective, "Mills look into it. This could be the gang trying to get rid of a witness. I have my doubts though due to this next evidence."

"Wait! Why is his blood green?" another detective asked.

"Oh yah, I almost forgot. Autopsy report stated that Mr. Darcy was taking Sumatriptan, which is prescribed by doctors for severe migraines. However there is no medical record of Mr. Darcy taking them. There appears to be no use drug wise to take them. We don't know if Mr. Darcy was taking them willingly or being forced them," Gordon went on. "The autopsy report states cause of death was blood loss, no surprise there. Davis I want you to work on what was used to kill him and figure out why someone was giving him Sumatriptan or why he was taking it."

"Onto the final piece of this odd puzzle, this," Gordon switched to another photo, "As you can see written in Greg Darcy's blood on the wall is 'I hold the future, strong, and bright. Some daft and stupid, but I keep them in the right.' We have no idea what it means," Gordon sighed.

"It's a riddle!"

Everyone turned to look at Stewart who shrunk back at all the looks, but Gordon pushed him on, "Go on."

"Well, I used to read riddles as a kid. They usually rhyme and ask a question," Stewart went on.

Gordon nodded, "Ok, he wrote a riddle."

"Well the answer could be a clue."

"Alright, what's the answer?"

Stewart gave an embarrassed smile, "I was never good at riddles."

Gordon shook his head, "So the suspect tortures and kills a guy with green blood and then writes a riddle on the wall with the victim's blood? God this town gets crazier and crazier." He sighed sitting in his chair.

"Calling all back up," Gordon's radio suddenly squawked, "Gas attack on Eastern Gotham High School, requesting all units."

Stewart gave Gordon an odd look, "School… That's it!" he yelled suddenly. "What holds the future? Kids right! They're our future! Some are smart, some are, well dumb, and school is supposed keeps kids on the right track right!" One cop muttered "sometimes" at the last comment but everyone ignored him.

Gordon looked back at the riddle and then Stewart, "You're right." He grabbed his walkie-talkie, "Be aware gas attack on high school may be a psychopathic murderer, proceed with caution." He turned back to the other policemen, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

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><p>5 Hours Earlier<p>

Edward still couldn't sleep, for a couple of days the images of Ink and Sister's deaths were pushed out by the feeling of joy for revenge. It had been so satisfying to cut off that man's fingers one by one. His screams were almost like music to his ears. All he could think of was each one of those fingers feeling up his own daughter.

However Edward didn't understand he had lost something in that room when that monster had died. His innocence.

The killing weighed heavily on his mind and unlike he thought, it did not bring full satisfaction. He could only stay awake feeling guilty, and dirty. He felt wrong and broken but at the same time right and satisfied. But all Edward could remember was the joy and happiness when the man had listened to him and followed his rules. He was blissful showing this man how stupid he was, and how smart Edward, no, Riddler was.

He had to do it again.

Two weeks he spent planning his next moves, making everything was perfect. Choosing new targets, building new machines. He bought the drugs he needed and programed the proper codes needed to work. He covered his tracks, he figured out the riddles, and made sure he could never be found. Everything was ready. It all needed to be perfect

Edward walked around the open room looking out the window at the city. He grabbed his jacket and goggles, stuffing them in his school bag. Time to get to work.

The bell signalling the beginning of classes for the day rang and the students filed one by one into the school. They slid their pass keys into the machine that acknowledged they were at school. A swipe and then an iris scan, Gotham East High was on top of the list for schools of the future. They were the test school, the equipment donated from Wayne Industries.

After school that day was some sort of pep rally, and the students being so dedicated to school spirit were all there. It helped that the periods were cut in half. Unknown to them Edward was making sure all students were present.

The second bell rang, signifying you better be in class now or else you were late. Usually there few students scrambled to reach their classes, strangely many students were trying to make it into class a few seconds after the bell. Edward had changed the bell to ring one minute ahead of schedule to make sure people were rushing into class.

This way no one was paying attention to the TV in the corner of the room, or new pipes and boxes pushed into the high ceilings. Or the new camera in a different corner taking in a view of the 30 classrooms that had students in them.

But every student noticed when the doors locked automatically, which was only programed during lockdowns of the school. And then the TV flickered on revealing the face of Edward Nashton leering at them.


	11. Can't Walk Away

**Ahh! Thank you so much for the reviews! Big thank you to Ariddle-Ascare for always reviewing, I'm sorry! I usually put out a chapter once a week! Also thank you to Vanstania! I'm so glad you like it and hopefully as I show you more of Edward's mind you'll see how he thinks! Anyway Thank you again and please enjoy this next chapter! And review! **

**K **

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><p>"Hello Gotham East," he stated with almost no emotion in his voice. Edward looked downright sickly with his pale skin and messy dark brown hair. His eyes had dark circles around them and his expression was one of a startled rodent. His purple goggles hung around his neck and his green jacket was placed on the back of chair. Both were cleaned of any green blood. He wore a black dress shirt with a dark green tie that was loosely tied. Two purple armbands kept his shirtsleeves from sliding up when he put on his jacket, they added a little colour. Finally keeping the tie from flying around was a gold clip with a question mark which kept with the motif. For the first time ever Edward had actually put quite a bit of thought into his outfit, he felt like a new man.<p>

He gave a grin, "Oh I can hear everything you say by the way."

"Edward! What are you doing?" the Riddler could see Mr. Mark's screaming and trying to break down the door.

Laughing at his idiotic behaviour the Riddler only taunted more, "It's funny how the things you stupid teachers put in to "protect" us," Riddler put air quotes using his fingers, "Is what will keep you all in."

The boy who had been the leader when the group of boys had beaten Edward screamed up at the ceiling, "Come off it Edward! This isn't going to work again!"

"You're absolutely right. This time it's for real," the Riddler gave a death glare.

The boy continued to yell, the other student's looked confused, "Shut up! Stop fucking with us!"

"I am not fucking with you!" the Riddler screamed back, "The doors are steel, the windows are bulletproof and there is no way out of that room!" Breathing heavily, the Riddler still felt that twang of joy when no one objected, "If you don't answer my questions I will gas you."

"Rriiighhtt," the boy yelled back. The Riddler held his head in his head as he was so tired of people thinking he was lying. He pulled the classroom's video feed onto the corner of his own feed he was sending to all the classrooms. Now everyone could see and hear the annoying boy's screaming.

"You don't believe me? I'm not screwing around anymore, I mean business," Riddler said darkly, he typed in something into a keyboard, "You fail to listen to me," Riddler held up his finger, threatening the school. "This will happen."

The Riddler hit the enter button, a hiss filled the bully's room.

"Edward? Look you can just walk away," the bully stated but the Riddler only grinned looking at the fear on his face. The hissing grew louder, some students screamed as a white gas began to fill the room.

"No I can't," the Riddler whispered, his eyes open wide but looking at nothing.

The bully spun around in a panic, Riddler could see all the other classes looking at their TV screens in a dead silence. "Edward!" he was screaming louder, soon all you could see in the room was the thick gas.

Then the screaming started.

"EDWARD!" the bully's voice was high pitch in fear. On the screen you could see random movement, people running into walls, screaming and scratching at the walls.

The Riddler pulled down the feed, looking back at the camera he clearly stated to the rest of the classes who were shaking in fear, crying, screaming to go home.

"Survival of the fittest moron."

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><p>Gordon drove as fast as he could, dodging cars that seemed to forget a siren meant GET OUT OF THE WAY. Stewart sat in the passenger seat clinging to the sides of the car.<p>

"Are you sure you should go this fast?" he said with his voice full of worry and distrust in Gordon's driving.

"We've got to get the bastard now, before he can do anymore damage. We can't have another joker incident," Gordon admitted.

Officer Stewart shifted his eyes right and left, "Look I know we aren't supposed to talk about this. But can't you like call Batman or something he's better at dealing with these things right?"

Gordon gave Stewart a look, "The Gotham police have nothing to do with the vigilante named Batman. Protocol is to arrest him onsite for questioning on the murders of Wuertz, Maroni, and Amari."

Surprisingly Stewart simply shrugged and held on for dear life. Gordon assumed that he was too naïve to realize the Gordon was very obviously lying or just could care less. He was new to the town.

But inside Gordon questioned if he could somehow contact Batman, he was one of the only people to know who really killed those people. This crime, it's flamboyancy with the green blood and riddles screamed something up his alley, not the police. He clicked his walkie-talkie, "Unit 15, I want you to contact Arkham and make sure Jonathon Crane and the Joker are still in custody."

"Roger."

Stewart was curious, "You think one of them are behind this?"

"Honestly? No. Joker would tell us he committed a crime and then tell us the next one. Crane is more about his experiments," Gordon admitted, "However I'm hoping it's one of them. Gotham doesn't need any more whack jobs."

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><p>"Edward, please, think of what you're doing! This is a crime, you are hurting people," a female teacher tried to beg while holding a sobbing girl.<p>

The Riddler snapped back, "Think? I am always thinking. Always. Do you know how long it took me to set this all up?"

No one answered but the Riddler didn't expect them to.

"But now, I'm going to make all of you, think for once. Get you to take your heads out of the ground and see if you have any sort of knowledge. But don't worry I don't have high expectations.

Students were crying, mumbling, it made the Riddler feel so powerful. For once he wasn't the one being used.

The Riddler grinned, "With that settled, I hope we are all at an understanding. Now," he paused, "Onto my demands."

"Edward," the female teacher tried to beg. She was cut off by the Riddler slamming his fist onto the table. The sudden noise made students squeal, and cover up screams.

"Shut. Up." The Riddler glared, making the teacher shrink back, empowering Riddler, "You are to listen to me." No one spoke up so the Riddler calmed down, "Each class is to answer a riddle, last class to answer within 10 minutes or any class that doesn't answer at all will be gassed."

Mr. Marks was the teacher to speak up now, "Calm down Edward. No one needs to get hurt, just leave now. The police will be here any moment. Please Edward I know you're a smart kid."

"Smart Mr. Marks? I was a fucking genius and you treated me like I was dirt," the Riddler hissed.

Mr. Marks got angry instead of afraid, infuriating Riddler, "You self-absorbed, selfish child."

"SHUT UP!" the Riddler snapped and hit a button on the computer, gas took over the room and the other classes could hear the screams. "Anyone else want to say something?" Riddler screamed through the TV. Fury burned in his eyes, and his goggles had fallen off his head. He looked almost insane.

Not a word so the Riddler said, "Let's begin."

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><p>Gordon was the first person to get out of the car, but already at the scene were a great deal of ambulances and fire trucks. People were panicking and parents were screaming for their children. A white gas appeared to be seeping through the cracks of the door.<p>

"What's the story?" Gordon asked a group of a firefighter, paramedic and another police officer with a megaphone.

The police officer shrugged, "We have no idea. Some kid called with their cellphone, screaming about some guy asking them riddles. Then she starts wailing about a gas attack and after that she dropped the phone and all we could hear were lots of screams. Not just her."

"Shit, any idea of what the gas is. And can we get in there," Gordon pointed at the school's front doors.

The firefighter shook his head, "We tested it, it's not smoke, chlorine or any of the usual stuff. We can break down the doors but we don't know what the gas is."

Screams. Gas and then screams… It hit Gordon suddenly, "Get you're gas masks and get your asses in there!" he yelled.

"But sir! What about that gas?" the firefighter argued.

"It's Crane's gas, don't breathe it in and you'll be fine," Gordon grabbed the megaphone and turned to the crowd, "We need everyone to step back!" The crowd yelled for their children but reluctantly obliged.

The firefighters smashed the door in and ran inside. The white gas seeped out but disappeared into the atmosphere. Gordon looked into the school slightly afraid and he hoped to God they caught this psychopath.

Suddenly a couple students came out of the building, screaming their heads off.

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" one boy screamed, falling to the ground trying to shake off his invisible attackers.

One girl only whimpered and tried to crawl away, her whole body shaking like a leaf. Another was ripping at her own skin muttering about the insects crawling through her body. A firefighter stepped out holding a girl who had bloodied fingers and lips from chewing on her own body.

He stopped and looked at Gordon, "We're going to need more people and ambulances." Gordon only stared at the huge number of students screaming and scrambling away. Some bloody, others rolling around. Parents were trying to break through the line of police officers to find their kids. It was a riot in the making, panic was only increasing.

Another firefighter came up to Gordon, "I'm sorry commissioner. We tore the place up, no sign of anyone orchestrating this event."

"There's another monster out there," was all that Gordon could reply back.


	12. Lost Memories

**Hiya, back again this week with another chapter. As usual thank you so much to Ariddle-Ascare for your review and I'm so glad you liked the chapter. Also thank you to Deception-Silverstreak for your review! Reviews are always welcomed! Anyway enjoy this next chapter! edit: mistakes**

**K**

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><p>"Look at me Liam, what happened in there?" Officer Stewart sat on the edge of the ambulance trying to speak to a younger student.<p>

The kid's eyes were moving around wildly and he could only stammer answers, "G-gas, WRONG!" he suddenly screeched making Stewart jump back. "WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!" he kept wailing until an EMT sedated him and he softly fell asleep.

"None of these kids make sense," Officer Stewart walked back over to Gordon.

Gordon nodded sadly, "The one's I talked too kept yelling wrong, one kept saying 'Get it right, get it right.' And all their injuries are self-inflicted this is definitely Crane's gas."

"No more riddles, no more, stop, I wanna live!" another girl was carried off by an EMT while she shook.

Stewart ran a hand through his hair, "Who could do this to kids? I mean Crane must have had standards."

"It's not Crane," Gordon said strongly.

"How can you be so sure? It's his gas."

Gordon shook his head, "Crane's all about furthering his experiment I told you. Not riddles, clues, or all this extra crap. Let's check inside the school, maybe the attacker left something."

"Another riddle?" but Gordon didn't answer Stewart. The two of them pulled on their gas masks and wandered into the empty school. The gas was almost gone but they weren't taking any chances. The school was eerily quiet and Blake shuddered at the blood drops on the ground. They walked into the first classroom. Gordon closed the door.

Stewart said with almost fear in his voice, "Why'd you close the door?"

"I want to see the room like these kids did. If we can't question them, we have to assume things," Gordon stated. The two first noticed the bloodied marks on the door.

His voice wavering Stewart stated, "They were so desperate they tried to claw their way out?"

Gordon nodded, "The chairs and tables are everywhere. They tried throwing them through the windows. But the school isn't meant to break." He pointed at a small camera in the corner, "The school board doesn't allow the use of cameras in classes, someone put this in here." Gordon also pointed out a small box in the corner, "That doesn't look like the AC, it could have been used to distribute the gas."

"So guy comes in watches the students and then gases them?" Stewart was confused.

Gordon shook his head, "The kids kept babbling about riddles and being tested. No. Someone was playing with them."

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><p>Edward collapsed as he pulled himself up into his home above the rafters of the library. He had pulled the goggles and tie off. Along with the jacket, they were tossed into his backpack. No one noticed a teenager in a black dress shirt and jeans. Edward had melted back into society,<p>

"I've done it," he told himself in joy. His whole body was bursting with adrenaline and happiness. It had been just as sweet as he expected to get revenge, and now he couldn't stop. He looked at the board where he had posted newspaper articles relating to anything he had done. So far there were 5 articles.

He read the headlines out loud, his pride in himself growing, "Green-blooded Murder. Police Baffled by Butcher. No Leads in Green Blood Murder Case. Mystery Grows with the Green-blooded Killer. New Psychopath?"

It was obvious to Edward that his genius had been correct. Even if he had slaughtered that man, the green blood added enough flair to get onto the front page. He still had that touch of guilt deep in his mind. So small he couldn't acknowledge it. And even satisfying his own desire for attention, even though for once in his life he was happy, the nightmares were still there.

The gas attack at the school had two objectives. Revenge and the after effects of the gas. Soon no one would be left to identify him. Edward began giggling uncontrollably; it seemed odd but a relief at the same time. He almost felt relaxed and in control, Edward was pretty sure it should always be like this.

"So the police haven't gone public with the riddles," Edward spoke out loud, "Well they can't keep all the fun to themselves."

* * *

><p>"I found it Commissioner!"<p>

Gordon appeared at the doorway to the office with his flashlight, "What do you have Stewart? Video surveillance of the attacker?"

Stewart shook his head, "Sorry sir, it appears whoever did this wiped the computer clean of anything. It's this," he pointed at the window that displayed the back field.

Scratched deeply into the glass was, "An act illegal to attempt and fail. But if committed, it is not.

"Another riddle," the commissioner ran his hand through his hair. He walked in a circle than kicked the trash can suddenly while yelling, "Damn it!" Officer Stewart shifted uncomfortably. Gordon was furious, "What the hell is this crazy thinking? He's just screwing with us."

"The press is going to be all over us on this one. Children are involved for god's sake. Who attacks kids? What am I supposed to tell them, some sort of psycho with a thing for riddles is targeting random places?" Gordon sighed frustrated.

Stewart tried to get Gordon back on track, "Look we'll talk to the students again after the gas wears off."

Gordon nodded but his gut told him that this was going to be more difficult than a simple interview.

* * *

><p>"All right Jenna we need to know what happened exactly," Miles was interviewing the girl in her hospital room. Gordon stood at the side and Stewart was in a different room. The whole hospital was practically filled with students and teachers. Jenna was one of the few students with what was considered a very minor injury.<p>

The teenager still had wide eyes that seemed filled with fear. Her arm was in a cast as it had been broken somehow, "I-I remember gas."

"Yes, Jenna. Someone gassed your school. What else do you remember?"

She blinked a couple times, "I remember being in class. Gas. And then I woke up here."

"Anything at all Jenna. We really need any help here."

"Ok, ok," she scrunched her eyes closed, "Questions, and screaming. Someone was asking us things."

Miles pressed on, "Go on."

"Then wrong, we were wrong!" the girl's eyes flew open, "Bugs! They're everywhere! GET THEM OFF ME! THERE IN MY MOUTH! HELP ME!" Jenna was suddenly screaming and squirming. A doctor at the side grabbed her arms.

She spoke calmly to her, "It's okay Jenna, nothing's going to hurt you. I'm right here." The doctor looked at Miles and Gordon, "I think it's best if you left." The two left the room while the doctor tried to soothe Jenna's panic.

Stewart met Gordon in the hall, "None of these can remember anything. They try and they start screaming. Not even just about the attack all of them have trouble remembering things about their life. One kid didn't recognize his parents!"

"I can tell you why," another doctor walked about to the three men. He was older with a white beard. He didn't even bother to introduce himself, "I tested the kids for whatever got into their systems. As you predicted I compared it to the chemical makeup of Dr. Crane's gas and it was mostly a match."

"Mostly?" Miles questioned.

The doctor nodded, "Mostly. Its basic structure was their but someone added a few new things. First off, Flunitrazepam."

Stewart looked confused so Gordon filled him in, "Date and rape drug. No wonder they can't remember the attack. Still doesn't tell us why these kids are forgetting things about their own lives."

"Also added was Statin drugs which can also cause memory loss which is why they are having trouble with their own memories. However the main reason I hypothesize is that this was all a very traumatic event for them. Seeing their greatest fears combined with these other drugs, these kids all have repressed their memories from the attack. If they saw their attacker's face they would not ever remember it because their own mind wants to keep themselves at peace. They try to remember and all those memories brought on by the fear gas will come back. That's why I'm going to have to ask you to stop you're interviews. These kids may even consider suicide if you push their memories back onto them. Please just try to find this sick man some different way."

"We understand doctor. Please take care of these kids," Gordon stated shaking the man's hand. With that the group left, heading back to the patrol cars.

Miles asked Gordon, "Now what? Whoever this is, they've covered their tracks well. They shut up the witnesses without killing them."

"There has to be a reason behind this all. A guy murders a man with green blood. Kills him gruesomely and then turns around and gasses a school with fear gas. Then leaves riddles behind? Something is going on, but we can catch him before he turns out like the Joker" Stewart exclaimed, young and energetic, Gordon envied him.

Miles turned to Gordon, "I know all of this is pretty bad, but why are you so sure this is going to be huge ordeal?"

"I don't know all I know is that we have a press conference this afternoon. Stewart you head back with Miles, I have to stop somewhere," Gordon ordered, pushing the question away, and the police officers left without argument.

* * *

><p>Commissioner Gordon turned off his radio as he drove up to the grave yard. He stopped in front of Harvey Dent's grave.<p>

"If only you were here now Harvey. I have a feeling the Gotham's about to fall apart again and there's nothing to defend us. No white knight and no dark knight."

Gordon looked back up to the sky, "I know I have no signal, and you can't hear me. But we need you back."

"Batman."


	13. Fame

**Ahh! I'm so sorry guys for taking so long! I've been busy with exams and school, I'm just so sorry! Things should be going back to normal now. Thank you to Ariddle-Ascare, MyFeetWon'tTouchTheGround and Pandaastasia! I am honoured and so happy! So on word! Please enjoy another chapter!**

**K**

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><p>"Commissioner Gordon!"<p>

The press were already screaming at him before he had reached the podium. Even three months after the Joker the pressure the press applied was still high. The room was filled and reporters held out their recorders.

Gordon steeped up to the many microphones. "Good afternoon Gotham. I'm Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham PD." It wasn't like any of these people didn't know who he was, but he continued on, "I'm here today to discuss and answer any questions on the murder of Greg Darcy and the attack on the school Gotham East."

Of course the crowd was partially there for the rumours of the odd death of Darcy. Also anything involving the harm of children was guaranteed to bring in crowd.

"Commissioner! Are there any suspects?" someone screamed over the murmuring.

Gordon ignored the question, "Please hold your questions until the end,' he paused then went on, "Gotham PD was called out to the home of Greg Darcy do to a neighbour claiming he hadn't seen the man in a while. His workplace also reported he had not been into work for two days with no call. Mr. Darcy had been inflicted with many wounds and cut up." Gordon swallowed and spoke the first oddity, "Also at the scene it was determined that Mr. Darcy had been drugged with Sumatriptan and his blood was green."

The mumbling in the room grew louder as the reporters scribbled down notes and turned to look at each other in shock. Gordon kept on with the conference, "Two weeks later a report came in that someone had gas attacked a local school, Gotham East. On scene the students were in a state of panic with numerous self-inflicted wounds. Doctors were able to confirm that the Fear gas that Dr. Jonathon Crane, also known as Scarecrow, was used in the attack."

"Why do you think the two crimes are tied together?" a reporter broke the rules as he yelled out the question.

Gordon decided to answer the question anyway, "At the first scene written in Mr. Darcy's blood was a riddle that led us to the next crime scene. Another riddle was left at the school also."

The excitement or fear in the room grew and people were yelling things while reporters tried to move in closer to the stage to have their questions heard. Gordon decided that now would be a good time to take questions. He pointed at a woman who tried to shout over the crowd, "How many causalities were there?"

"Only one, Greg Darcy, the students are traumatized and injured."

Another reporter gave his question, "Does the crime have any connection to the scarecrow?"

"At the time we are unsure," Gordon answered the questions like a robot.

"Sir, would you say we may have another city wide crisis on our hand? Do you believe this to be a following of the Joker?"

Gordon avoided his own gut feeling, better to keep the city calm, "At the time the public has no need to panic. Gotham PD has the situation under control."

"Do the police have any idea of why there have been so many odd murders these past years? Is there any news about Batman?"

"We feel none of these murders have anything to do with each other. The question is unrelated," Gordon sighed lightly. "That'll be all the question for today. We will inform the public of any other news we learn." With that Gordon waved off the other questions yelled at him and walked away back to work.

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne watched the conference on his TV swirling the whisky in his hand. Usually he never drank alone but these days the world seemed a little darker. He could only hold his head in anguish as he listened to Gordon speak about this new criminal.<p>

"Alfred," Bruce called out as he took a taste of the expensive alcohol.

Alfred came around the corner, bowing slightly to Bruce he stated, "Yes Master Wayne?"

Though Bruce stopped spinning the glass, he continued to stare in the swirling liquid. "It's happening again. It never will end, will it?" Bruce mumbled while Alfred pulled the glass out his hand.

"I take it you are speaking about this new killer," Alfred waved off Bruce's hand that was grasping for the cup back. "You can't blame yourself Master Bruce," Alfred stated as if he could read Bruce's mind.

Bruce shook his head, "How couldn't be. Freaks," the word tasted sour on his own tongue, "It's spreading like a disease."

"What will you do sir?"

"Nothing. Maybe if the Batman just stays away, it'll all disappear," Bruce decided, he pressed the power on his remote and the TV shut down with his thoughts.

* * *

><p>Edward typed furiously on his laptop, hacking into old school files, deleting some, creating others. He wormed his way into more secure files, creating a false identity. Edward Nashton would be no more.<p>

His fingers seized up suddenly and he felt his whole body choke up. He glanced sideways to look at a mirror. He saw only Edward Nashton. Bruised and scuffed up, he still had his messy hair, and scrawny body. But then he saw his eyes encircled by the darkness of nightmares, the brightness of the blue were dulled by something else. He looked like a boy who had seen too much. He looked away grimacing, But once the image was gone he couldn't help but grin.

Power, it was all he had ever wanted. And now he had it. Edward pushed the laptop of his legs and lay on the wooden floor in his hidden room. He ran his hands through hair, "Stupid, stupid idiots." He thought of the stupid men and women panicking and the police were unable to do anything. All they could do was fail to solve any of his crimes. Edward gripped his hair as he couldn't stand to wait any longer. Oh this next project would be the greatest. The one person he had longed dead for his whole life.

His Father.

* * *

><p>Stewart groaned and leaned back in his chair while spinning in a circle. He just couldn't wrap his head around the riddle left at the newest crime scene. When he had signed up to be a cop, he never imagined that criminals existed like this one. It sort of reminded him of that movie "Se7en." Stewart shuddered at thought of the ending of that movie. Fortunately he wasn't married or even a girlfriend.<p>

Pushing strands of black hair out of his face, Stewart picked up the newspaper that lay on his desk. The headlines were about exactly what he thought they would be about. Only one kill and the freak was on the first page.

"The Riddler," was all it said in bold. Great, they already had given him a nickname. It went on to tie the murder and attack on the school together. Of course the public had no knowledge on the riddles, but the press was all over it. Calling him a crazy, turning life into a game, a heartless criminal that preyed on the youth.

Stewart tossed the newspaper aside. He had to focus on the case, not on what people thought about it. But every time he stared at brown folder filled with bloody pictures, body parts or scared teenagers that would probably have mental problems for the rest of their lives, he couldn't help but think of the freak behind it all.

Who could fall so low in life to attack people like this? What was this guy thinking? Riddles, gas attacks and green blood? It all meant something to this criminal, but to Stewart it made him want to scream.

"An act illegal to attempt and fail. But if committed, it is not."

Stewart began talking to himself, "Robbery? No. How about murder? Damn it, it's still considered a crime to attempt those things!" Stewart pushed the files violently off his desk. This was his first case, first time ever and he couldn't come up with anything. Let alone a simple answer to a riddle.

He joined to fight evil! Rid the world of bad guys, shoot up gangsters, whatever. Not go toe to toe with a criminal intellectually. He wasn't even that bright. He had scored well in his school but he always saw things black and white. Good and evil. Thinking outside the box always bothered him, the box was there for a reason.

Stewart tried to picture who he was chasing, and for some strange reason all he could picture was an old man petting a cat while sitting in an arm chair. It wasn't helping.

Slowly he grabbed a picture on the ground that caught his attention, it was a burly student he had interviewed. He had been in really bad shape and his nose had been broken when someone kicked him in the face. He was one of the few that stuck out simply for what he had kept yelling. Not, "Bugs!" or "Monsters!" or something normal.

All he screamed was,

"I'm sorry!"


	14. Family Matters

**Fast updates since it's summer and I have nothing better to do :D Thank you so much for the reviews! As usual to Ariddle-Ascare, Deception-Silverstreak, and Pandastasia! I love getting feedback. More reviews faster updates XP. Just cause they make me happy! So this chapter was surprisingly easy to write! I hope you enjoy it!**

**K**

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><p>"Guehh," was the noise that came out of David Nashton's mouth as he struggled to regain consciousness. His blurred vision slowly allowed the room to come back into vision. His whole body felt like it was throbbing. Nashton was greeted by the vision of a hooded figure sitting across his own kitchen table. The stranger had his head hung low and his fingers were tapping nervously on the tabletop.<p>

Nashton struggled to speak, "H-Hello?" The hooded figure stopped tapping; Nashton realized the jacket was green with a question mark on the forehead part. The stranger's head rose up slowly to reveal a pair of bright, blue eyes.

Familiar eyes.

"Edward?" Nashton was still confused and his arms felt stiff, "You finally came home you moron. I knew you would."

Edward didn't understand his own feelings anymore, oh he still felt the rage deep down. That burning hate, that bloodlust. But something else was there now, something he didn't understand.

Nashton had been drugged, but his gurgled words still came out, "I knew you were too weak to leave. Knew you'd come back."

"Father," was all Edward could muster. Inside his mind the Riddler was screaming, "HE IS NOT YOUR FATHER." But Edward felt his insides twist. "KILL HIM! FUFILL YOUR DREAMS. NO ONE CAN STOP YOU!" the Riddler kept screaming in his mind.

Edward's father flopped to the right, "What's going on Eddie? Why can't I move?"

Edward leaned away from his father, a look of horror on his face. His childhood nickname had struck a blow. It hadn't always been so bad had it? Suddenly the memories of learning to ride a bike, going to the park, his father buying him his first toolbox. But at the same time he remembered being locked in a closet for stealing a cookie before dinner. He remembered being choked after getting oil on the carpet and he had gotten into a shouting match. He remembered being thrown down stairs for failing a class. So much bad mixed with too little good. He could feel the bruises from his 17 years, he remembered feeling so alone. But still his resolve was broken and his hands shook.

Why was this so hard? He hated this man, this man who had tormented him for so many years.

"I told you Eddie, crying's for girls," the drugs were messing with his father's mind. But now Edward could feel the hot liquid dripping down his face.

"I hate you so much," Edward started his voice wavering. He pulled his father's gun from under the table. His father's eyes looked down at the silver piece. And Edward saw his own eyes in his father, he was after all his flesh and blood.

The older Nashton struggled to move, "What's going on Eddie?"

Edward couldn't look at him, and for the first time in months riddles had left his mind. No this next victim would not be a victim of the Riddler, it would be a victim of Edward Nashton. The last and only.

If he could do it.

"Why?" it was the one riddle of Edward's life that had always stumped him, "Why do you hate me?"

The answer was garbled, "I don't hate you. I know you can do something with your life. Something great something I could've done. But I wasted it. And here you were wasting your chances. You're an idiot, lazy and always on your computer. You're a kid, could've been an athlete, or a doctor. Instead you just made all sorts of crap."

His father blinked trying to avoid the single tear that fell from his eye, "Now you're nothing except exactly what I am."

That set the Riddler off, he brought up the gun swiftly. Pointing it at his father's head, "I am nothing like you! You're a monster, a freak, a nobody!" He pointed at himself, "I, I am a saviour! An avenger for the wronged! I am a teacher, here to show that everyone else are idiots. Tell them to learn something. I've killed a man father. Killed a man just like you, nothing more than a monster. I've taught a whole school something that teachers can't. I've taught them fear, I've taught them they can't just bully their way through life! I have the cops running around in circles chasing their own tails. I AM THE RIDDLER!" he was screaming now.

His father laughed, and the Riddler shrank away, bested by a laugh. "A saviour? Look at what you're wearing. Trying to make a name for yourself but you're the real freak. The real monster."

Edward let the gun fall and his head fell again. Why couldn't he pull the trigger? Even after all that and no matter the amount of hate. He wasn't a freak, his father was just jealous that he didn't have the same fame he did.

It didn't make sense! This puzzle it was one he couldn't solve.

"You know Eddie, I'm sorry."

Edward was taken back, his father was sorry? Was he afraid to die? No, he didn't even believe Edward could do it. Was it the drugs? Maybe, that was the most likely answer.

"I've hit you a couple times. But you're a man you should be able to handle it. When your mom died, you were all I had left. And in this area you've got to be tough or you'll get eaten alive here."

"That doesn't make it ok," Edward growled under his breath. He gripped the gun tighter, "You don't get to do that. You don't get to say 'I'm sorry' and everything gets better! You had no right to beat me! I was a kid, I couldn't fight back!"

"For 15 years I've let bullies walk all over me at home, on the streets, and at school. I've tried to skirt through life without getting anyone's attention. I've been so afraid to let people see me. So afraid to show off. Afraid I'd do it wrong. But no more. I'm not Edward Nashton anymore. I know I'm smarter than everyone else. I know that I have a right to show them all."

Edward shook his head at his father, "I just wanted your approval. I just wanted you to accept me and be proud of me. But instead the only pride you have is in your ego. You could never show any weakness to me. And compassion is a weakness to you."

"Was I ever a son to you?" Edward bit his lip trying not to cry, "Or was I only a mistake? Or maybe just a remnant of my mother you couldn't erase."

His father shook his head, "You were my legacy I'd leave here. That's all children are, the products of their parents."

"You don't own me!" Edward yelled, "I may be a product of you but I'm the product of hate, pain, despair, desperation and suffering." The teenager put a hand to his face, trying to cover it.

The older Nashton gazed at his son, "Why are you crying?"

"What four letter word is the cause of the most discord in the world, as well as the most cooperation?" Edward muttered.

His father looked at him oddly, "Huh?"

"Love, dad, love," Edward pulled his hand away from his face. It was streaked with tears, and Edward couldn't help but sob now.

He didn't look at his father in anger but pity, and regret, "Because despite of everything you've ever done, despite of how much I despise you." Edward tried to wipe away some tears, "I still fucking love you. I still see you as my dad despite how many times I try to tell myself you aren't!"

Nashton was silent as his son blathered on, "YOU are the person I hate the most. YOU made me want to die. YOU are the worst of my nightmares. YOU caused my broken bones, the bruises, the cuts, and the pain! I was eager to do this, I thought I would enjoy this. I couldn't wait! But even now YOU cause me conflict."

"I hate you, I hate you so much. But you're still my dad. You gave me food, you gave me a place to live, you tucked me in when I was kid. You read me stories, you played with me. You taught me, and pushed me to be better."

"What happened?" Edward grabbed his dad's shoulder. Edward's face was one of conflict, pain was all he felt. Why couldn't he stop crying?

His dad gave him a look of hostility, "You didn't grow up right."

Edward let go of his shoulder, and the pity left his eyes, "It's still my fault to you. Everything was always my fault."

Though the pity was gone the pain was still there as Edward raised the gun once again, "I'm not sorry to do this. But I want you to know I did love you. I hated you more but somehow deep inside me I remember happiness. You deserve this though, more than anyone else." He pressed the gun to his father's forehead.

The drug must have worn off a bit because his father noticed the change in his eyes but he still thought he couldn't do it, "Edward, what are you doing? We both know you don't have it in you."

"I regret nothing."

And Edward pulled the trigger.


	15. Afraid

**WOW! I love you guys, thanks for all the reviews! I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter, it's a bit heartbreaking :S Here is the next chapter. The last bit of this was a LOT of fun to write. Anyway enjoy and please leave a review! More equals faster updates ;D. **

**K**

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><p>"AHHH!" Edward threw the chair across his room. He fell onto his knees and pressed his palms against his eyes.<p>

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, there was still blood splattered on his face. Edward pushed the mirror over violently. There was fear in his eyes.

"What gift is never wanted?" he screamed pushing over his table. Papers spilled onto the ground but Edward paid no attention to them.

He kept wailing to himself, "PAIN!"

Still hysterical Edward pulled books out of his library and threw them harshly against the wall. He wanted relief, he wanted the guilt to go away, and he wanted peace in his mind. But killing his father only opened more doors for chaos in his own mind.

He was damned for life, oh he was going to hell for sure. Was he really the bad person in this though? Edward fell to the ground not even trying to stop himself and the side of his head hit the ground hard. He didn't notice though, only staring at the toolbox. The one his dad had bought him.

The burning in his throat rose to its peak and Edward let out. He screamed loudly and it echoed in the empty room. He brought his knees to his chest forming the fetal position. The pain in his chest wouldn't go away, the tighter he squeezed yet it did not soothe the pain. He cried like no tomorrow.

He was alone.

Never would he see his father again. Never would he be beaten by him. Never again would he be put down or mocked by him.

Why was he so sad then? Why was it he couldn't get out of his head the red droplets that flew from the small bullet hole on his dad's head? The way his head jerked back and the life draining from his eyes almost instantly. The look on his father's face when he realized that Edward was really going to do it. That look of surprise and regret.

"I'M NOT SORRY!" Edward tried to reassure himself. Without the Riddler's confidence and strength Edward was nothing but the beaten, scared kid he really was. He had been so sure he'd be happy about this. Not full of guilt and regret. This needed to happen, this HAD to happen. It was the only way he could be free.

But all Edward could do that night was clutch his knees and cry himself to sleep in his wrecked room. Forever chained to the guilt of killing the one person who had taken care of him.

* * *

><p>Stewart stretched his arms out as he stepped out of his car. He was happy to get out of the office as he had been starring at the riddle for much too long. Something non-Riddler related would do him well. A simple suicide was what the patrol unit had called in after a neighbour had called in after hearing a gunshot.<p>

Working solo, Stewart stepped into the dim, dirty kitchen. Fast food containers littered the room while a mouse scurried by with leftovers. Making a face Stewart walked over to the body. It had fallen out of the chair after the gunshot. A single wound with blood dripping out of it due to gravity.

"Well this looks like a cut and dry case," Stewart muttered to the policeman on scene. "Guy sits down writes a note," Stewart pointed at the sheet of paper on the table with a few blood drops on it, "Shoots himself in the head," gesturing to the gun that was a few inches from the man's hand.

"Got a name?" Stewart asked.

The policeman nodded, "David Nashton, neighbour says she hasn't talked to the man in about 20 years. Not since his wife died. It is the Narrows, people don't like to chat much. Neighbour works nights, so she sometimes saw the guy go off to work. He was a plumber."

Stewart shrugged, "What a great job."

"We called up the workplace, apparently he was fired recently."

"Wife died, lost his job, any kids?" Stewart asked.

The man shook his head, "Files indicate that the mother and child died during child birth."

"What a sad life, guess the guy couldn't take it anymore," Stewart gave the body a sad look, "Send the coroner to pick up the body, I'll give Gordon my thoughts and he'll make the decision if we should take the case farther. I doubt it though."

Stewart picked up the white note on the table. It was crumpled with only, "There's nothing left here. Nashton," written on it. Strange he didn't write his full name, but still. Stewart gave the final orders, "Bag and tag the note, gun and something we can compare the note to. Then tape up the house afterwards."

Stewart let the note fall back onto the table and he left to focus on the Riddler case again. He would have to suffer through it but he had to catch that maniac.

And just as the Riddler predicted, he never found the riddle there.

* * *

><p>Gordon never liked Arkham, it was damp, gloomy and filled with human screams. Why did so many of the criminals get put in here? Well other than corrupt psychiatrists, Gordon was sure Gotham was just a little crazier than other cities. In between Batman and the villains who dressed up there was enough crazy to go around.<p>

"Ah! Commissioner Gordon! Early I see, I will notify the workers to put Scarecrow in the interview room," the secretary smiled at Gordon. It baffled him how this woman could smile in this place.

He raised an eyebrow, "Scarecrow?"

The woman nodded, "Yes, we have a tendency to use nicknames here."

Gordon couldn't help but put his hand to his face. Why did people feed the craziness and use the nicknames used by the press, "Please let's just call him Crane."

"Whatever pleases you," the woman gave him an odd look. A ringing broke the stare and she grabbed the phone. After listening for a few seconds she hung up, "He's ready for. Do you know the way?"

"Been here enough times," Gordon grumbled heading to the right. He walked through the hallway pulling open a grey metal door. Inside a man dressed in white stood by the doorway, Gordon nodded at him. However he was more interested of the man sitting at the table.

There was just an air around Dr. Jonathon Crane that installed fear. His blue eyes were so light that in the white room they almost seemed translucent. And all he did was stare curiously at Gordon with his eyes.

"Commissioner right? You are the new commissioner," Crane grinned as he leaned forward in the strait-jacket that kept his arms away. "Right after you captured that Joker, the first time," he mocked.

Gordon sat down, throwing down the brown folder, "Dr. Crane, the freak who went insane with his own gas."

"Freak? Ahhhh commissioner, are you afraid of the freaks? Afraid of the loony bin?" Crane grinned. "Why don't you have a seat? We can discuss your fear of crazies. Maybe you think you too, will end up here."

Sighing, Gordon ignored the crazed man, "So how is it being criminally insane Crane?"

"Terrible, there's always constant wailing and the meds are atrocious," Crane admitted while leaning back as if the two were having a casual conversation.

Nodding Gordon continued on, "Have you been taking you meds?"

"I'm not insane Gordon, no reason to do so," Crane stated, "I find they have a tendency to, 'Mess with the mind'."

"Speaking of which Crane, how are your drugs still getting on the streets?" Gordon cut straight to the chase.

Crane gave a knowing look, "I know what this is about, that new guy, the Riddler." He laughed, "What a terrible name, not very frightening. Though some may fear the unknown, like Batman."

At the sound of the Dark Knight's name Gordon's eyes perked up a bit. Crane continued on, "A man afraid of what would happen if people would find out his face. A man that likes control," Crane hissed the intenseness growing on his face, "Yes, a man like that would fear the unknown."

"We aren't here to talk about Batman Crane," Gordon tried to pull him out of his moods.

"Doctor, I'm a doctor," Crane reminded him, "And yes this 'Riddler'. Stealing my weapon and using it. Still I have no idea how he got it."

Gordon tried to push for more, "You aren't running the business now? No outside help?"

"How mentally-challenged do you think I am?" Crane gave him a cross look, "I am on 24/7 watch Commissioner. I am a considered a high risk patient. I'm not even allowed visitors or mail. New rules for the 'freaks' in masks they tell me."

"I need a source Crane. You don't want this pinned on you. A man was killed and kids attacked. Be the better man here."

The doctor ignored Gordon, "Green blood wasn't it? I do get the newspaper here. Green blood and riddles?" Crane laughed, "Must be good at biology and chemistry. However you think I'm crazy? This is a whole different level."

"Crane I need you to focus," Gordon was getting frustrated, "Who else worked with you on your drugs?"

Sighing Crane gave Gordon a bored look, "I can't remember."

Gordon ran a hand through his hair, "Nothing? No names, a gang?"

"Okay Commissioner, I'll make you a deal. You tell me your greatest fear," Crane proposed, "And I'll tell you where to find who works with my gas."

"You'd give up a man for my fear?"

"Indulge me," he spoke slowly.

Gordon gave him suspicious glance but Crane only grinned back. "I'm afraid of Gotham falling apart and crime ruling the streets."

Crane continued for him, "Your family dying, and you being unable to do anything." Still grinning, "It's closer than you think Commissioner and I would be more than just be a little 'afraid'."

"I was arrested with some other men, I would look into them," Dr. Jonathon Crane advised.

Gordon looked into Crane's eyes, but he couldn't get past them. "Thanks," he stated suspiciously grabbing his folder and walking out the door. However even then he could feel the burning of Crane's eyes on his back.


	16. Manipulation

**Thank you to Ariddle-Ascare for the review! Only one but I can't get greedy _ Scarecrow is one of my fave Batman villains :D especially when Cillian Murphy played him. ANYWAY please enjoy this next chapter as things start to heat up! Please read and review!**

**K**

* * *

><p>"Wow the guy looks like he's been through a war," Stewart stated as he scanned a picture of Dr. Jonathon Crane when he was a psychiatrist and the picture that came with Crane's patient file. One he was clean cut with his hair combed carefully back, a nice suit, gentle smirk and calm, cool, collected eyes. In the most recent picture his brown hair was a greasy mess, a white shirt with the food stains on it, and his eyes wild and hooded.<p>

Gordon explained what had happened, "He used to be always in control, intelligent and somehow always snuck by the police investigations on his practices. Then he got a dose of his own concentrated version of his gas. He's never been the same. Still brilliant, calculating and controlling, however his once mostly hidden obsession with fear escalated. I'm assuming it was a traumatic event. Now he hallucinates apparently, bats mostly." Gordon acknowledged in his mind that Crane was strong to fight of his own dementia every day, "Yet he's still able to function. Oddly, but still function."

"But it wasn't him?" Stewart asked.

Gordon shook his head while sitting back into his chair, "Nope, Crane is always under surveillance."

Stewart paced back and forth in front of Gordon's desk, "And he told you to look at his colleagues."

"Yes, like I've said there were four of them. They've been released on parole, with ankle monitors," Gordon fiddled with his drawer, he still hadn't gotten used to his large, new desk. "What have you got on the riddle?" he asked.

Shaking his head Stewart looked almost guilty, "Nothing, it doesn't make sense to me."

"We can't focus on playing this guy's games. We do this our way. Through police work," Gordon told him. "He leaves us these riddles because he hopes he can control us, mock us," Gordon realized, "And we aren't going to follow his rules anymore."

"Ok, let's assume he got Crane's stuff from one of these guys. We could interview each one and see if any of them had any contact with this 'Riddler'," Stewart suggested.

Gordon disagreed, "We don't have that much time. Last time the crimes were practically three days in between each other. It's already been more, this guy could strike any moment. And we don't know if there will be more causalities this time. Narrow down that list."

"Well how?" Stewart was tired of hitting so many road blocks.

Typing quickly on his computer, Gordon pulled up their files, "What can tell us who contacted this guy?" Suddenly his eyes lit up when he clicked Andre Boychyn's medical history.

Noticing the change in Gordon's demeanour Stewart became excited, "What is it?"

"Andre Boychyn is prescribed Sumatriptan."

* * *

><p>It had been a day since Edward's breakdown and two days since he had committed the murder. The images had yet to fade away but Edward had come to his senses enough to make sure he was ready for the next phase of his plan.<p>

Closing his hands and then opening them, he was able to calm his heart. He knew he was strong, it would take time but slowly he'd be able to learn to live with who he was. Edward almost grinned at the thought of more crimes, but caught himself. He noticed he had been starting to grin at inappropriate times. A habit that needed to be cut out, he wasn't insane, just a genius.

"What never stops for anything?" Edward said out loud, he typed something into his open laptop. Making sure that everything was ready. He was packing a suitcase, small, at the same time. He wouldn't be staying in his library home for a little bit.

"Time," he answered himself with a small smile, trying to be lighter and happier. He ignored the twinge of pain in his chest.

He knew he had to move on, and not let this one thing stop him. He did it for a reason, nothing could stand in his way now. He had all the time in the world, he picked up his phone. He had to make a call.

* * *

><p>"Did you call him?" Stewart asked Gordon still clutching the inside of the car as Gordon drove. He obviously didn't like driving much.<p>

Still trying to concentrate on the road Gordon answered him, "No answer, we don't have time. His tracker says he's still at his home." They drove for a few minutes, "We're here," Gordon announced.

His apartment of on the edge of the Narrows as it was nicer than some stuff.

"He still here?" Stewart asked.

Gordon looked at the computer screen in the squad car, "Yeah. Apartment 64. Wait… it's moving out of the building…" Gordon stated surprised.

A hooded man burst out of the doors running at full speed, he slid over the cops' car and booked it out of the vicinity.

"What the fuck? How'd he know we were coming?" Stewart yelled.

"Shut up and get in the car!" Gordon answered. He started driving before Stewart had even fully gotten into the car. Yelping, Stewart threw himself in before shutting the door.

Gordon was already on his radio, "Patrol units in section 28, we've got a runner. Perp is Andre Boychyn, tracking anklet is number 2343."

Andre hadn't gotten far but he had grabbed a blue car, small but speedy. Gordon flicked on his sirens as the blue car tried to pull away. The high speed pursuit had begun.

"All units be aware that subject is now in a blue Mazda, licences plate 473 SOF."

Stewart squeaked as Gordon pulled a sharp turn, he could almost feel the tires coming off of the pavement. Or it was all just in his head.

"Why is he running? He doesn't have a reason," Gordon said through gritted teeth. Andre had taken a turn onto a one way street, going the wrong way.

"Sir, I don't think this is a go-" Stewart was cut off by Gordon pulling onto the street and swerving to avoid an oncoming car.

Gordon yelled at Stewart, "Just keep your eye on that blip on the screen. Don't lose him!" There was a huge smashing noise ahead of them.

"It stopped moving."

"No shit," Gordon spat out. He was never one for any lip back. He pulled up near the crash, the blue car was totalled, it had hit a hummer. From the wreckage a man pulled himself out, it was Andre.

Gordon jumped out of the car; he had spotted the flash of a plastic, black object before Stewart had, "DROP THE WEAPON!"

Green blood was dripping from a wound on the Andre's head. He yelled back, "I ain't telling you fuckin' anything bro!" He stood up slowly, it was obvious he was shaken but not hurt.

"Put the weapon down!" Stewart had his out now too.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" the man was screaming. There was fear in his eyes as if something was wrong.

That's when Gordon heard it on the radio. Someone he didn't recognize, "All units on scene of Andre Boychyn. The man is armed and firing, shoot on sight." Another squad car had pulled up beside Gordon's.

"NO!" Gordon tried to scream but the patrol man was too fast. He jumped out the car, gun in hand and shot twice at Andre. They both hit.

"Is anyone injured?" the patrol man asked Gordon walking up slowly to Andre.

"You moron!" Gordon screamed, surprising the police officer. "He wasn't firing!" Gordon kicked away Andre's gun. The man was still breathing but green blood was pouring out of the wounds. Andre coughed, spraying blood out his mouth.

"But the radio sai-"

Gordon wouldn't hear any of it, "You fucking idiot!" He applied pressure to the wounds but something was wrong. The blood wasn't slowing, it wasn't clotting at all. Gordon's hands couldn't keep the blood in, it kept seeping out.

"No, no, no, what's wrong?" Gordon murmured. He slapped Andre who was still conscious, "Andre! Who'd you give Crane's gas to?" Gordon was desperate for answers. "Andre, tell me! Do something right, for the good of the Gotham! Please!"

"N-not my f-fault," Andre gasped, "I c-couldn't do any-ything." The life drained from his eyes with his final words. And his body went limp.

Gordon shook his head and leaned away from the body, Stewart was standing next to him now. The younger man was more shocked, "No, he was supposed to be our lead! How could this even happen!"

A paper clutched in the dead man's hand caught Gordon's eye. No, it couldn't be.

He pulled it out unrolling it slowly. The words burned into his eyes as the paper slipped from his grasp.

"No! Fuck!" he yelled out into the night. He kicked the side of the car in anger. How? How was this possible?"

Stewart scrambled to pick up the paper. It was a message this time rather than a riddle.

"We've had our fun with these petty games. But now the real riddles start now. Prepare to watch your city be torn apart. The key to this is control. You will never see me, but remember I am always here, in the shadows. Everything has a reason. "

Underneath was a block of random letters that made no sense, but Stewart paid them no attention. He let his arm fall, everything had a reason. The Riddler had used Crane's gas for a reason. He had used Sumatriptan for a reason. How could've the Riddler predicted all this? Planned this? It was impossible.

Gordon was more torn apart, "He used us. We did exactly what he knew we would do. We tried not to play his game but we walked right into this!" He pointed at the dead body and flaming car. "He knew we were cops, we don't answer to terrorist threats. We go with what we have. He knew, he knew and he's just toying with us!"

He punched at a pole, "DAMN IT! We did everything we could, and we just ended up being pieces in his puzzle."

Stewart couldn't even answer, he couldn't believe it.

The Riddler had won.


	17. Poison

**Sorry for the longer update period! I am working on a music video at the moment. Anyway the first 'arc' is done. This chapter jumps around time wise. Please enjoy and leave a review! Thank you so much to AriddleAscare, hope your account will come back on! Pandastasia, that sounds like terrifying place D: hugs! And thank you to Agentjazzy! **

**K**

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><p>30 Minutes Earlier<p>

Andre took a swig of the beer while lying on his couch. More specifically his girlfriend's couch. She was late as usual, probably still dancing. At least he hoped it was just dancing. After he slipped past the drug charges due to a sudden large amount of other criminals getting charged, he had come back to his girlfriend. She hadn't been too happy, but he really didn't care.

He had been settling in when he realized the cops had given him back his keys. The same keys that could open a boat filled with the "Scarecrow's" stash of drugs.

The stupid man realized that he could be the next Kingpin with all the other dealers off the streets. And around the time the Joker had blown up some hospitals he was in business. He tried to only sell the decent stuff but the freak's stuff was mostly his experimental fear gas. And there was no way he could sell any of that stuff.

That's what he thought.

* * *

><p>After the Joker stuff had died down he was contacted. He had been lying on his couch as usual when he noticed he had a new laptop had an email. Curious the subject said, "Important Read Now." Thinking maybe it was one of the guys he was dealing to, he clicked it. The message was blank so he shrugged it off and went back to TV.<p>

"Hello Mr. Boychyn," the sudden voice made the man fall out of chair.

On the screen was a smirking teenager, pale, and sickly looking. Purple goggles were on the top of his head and he wore a green, plastic jacket.

"What the fuck?" Andre swore.

The kid grinned as if he was excited over the man's confusion, "No need to worry. I simply desire to inquire about a certain gas."

"The hell you want Scarecrow's gas for?"

Pressing his fingers to his temple the kid shook his head, "You are stupider than I thought."

This upset Andre, "Who the hell are you calling stupid?"

"What is a certain letter in the alphabet and a person in this conversation?" the boy said.

Confused Andre tried hitting random things on his computer, "I know why you want the gas, you're a freak just like him."

A dark look took over the kid's face, "Hitting your computer will not get rid of me or your stupidity. However I am here to make you a deal, give me the gas and I can make sure you can do what you want without worrying about being tracked."

Andre looked down at his ankle monitor, "How dude?"

"I simply make something else transmit your signal, but leave that to me."

"Money?"

"$50000 cash."

That was a lot of money for shit he didn't need. But in the back of his mind he was thinking what the hell was this kid going to do with this money. However against his best judgement he told the kid, "Deal."

* * *

><p>The news was playing in the background and Andre couldn't watch it. Despite being a criminal, he still had some level of standards. He glanced on the screen as kids were being pulled out on stretchers. Shit man, of he got connected to this he wouldn't get an ankle monitor he could get like life or something.<p>

He had to call the cops, this kid was psycho. Andre turned around but was met by a flash of green and then something prodding from his neck. His vision blurred and he was out before he hit the ground.

When he came to he was sitting up and looking at the curious face of the boy again. "W-what did you do to me?" he asked.

Grinning the boy lifted up a needle, "Warfarin, a rat poison. In small doses it's an anti-coagulant; in the dose I gave you its fatal. You will die in a month if you don't get the cure. I have the cure."

The fear rose out of Andre's chest, "I didn't do anything!"

"You're simply a viability to me, but I don't need to kill you do I?"

"No! No! I won't tell anyone I swear! Just give me the antidote!" Andre yelled.

The kid shook his head, "I'll give it to you in three weeks so you understand your situation."

Andre didn't know what to do, but if he kept his mouth shut he'd be ok, right? He asked the kid one thing, "Who the fuck are you?"

Behind the kid the news was still on. A reporter on screen was at a conference of some sort, "You heard it here first, a new terror may be taking Gotham. Who is this Riddler?"

Grinning wider the Riddler looked at Andre, "There you go."

* * *

><p>This all had happened in the last month, and soon it would be the third week and Andre would get the antidote. He noticed the symptoms, bruises covered his body, his nose bled often, he was pissing blood and he always felt light-headed. He popped a Sumatriptan. At least this stuff stopped his regular migraines despite making his blood green. He kind of felt like an alien.<p>

His phone rang, the one the Riddler had given him he grabbed it quickly, he needed that antidote.

"Hello? Riddler? Come on man I need that antidote!" he practically yelled.

"The cops are almost at your front door. Get out of there now. Meet me at the abandoned warehouse on Davison Street. Get here fast, don't get caught, and don't lose them. I have a surprise for them. Take the fastest route," the Riddler hung up.

"Shit, shit, shit man," Andre grabbed his gun and thrust it into the back of his belt and ran out his building. The cops didn't have his ankle monitor did they? He saw the car no time to think, he slid over it. Shouting the pigs got back into their car. Andre saw a woman getting out of some blue car. He threw her to the ground and grabbed the keys. All this trouble over some drugs he was stealing. When he was done with this mess, he was done with drug dealing and Gotham. It was full of psychos.

He drove faster than he ever had in his life, Davison, Davison. Fastest street was a one way. But Andre stopped caring, he just had to get there and everything would be ok. Just get to the warehouse. He was so terrified he didn't notice the oncoming hummer trying to swerve out of the way.

God the pain was terrible, throbbing and pulsing. He heard his phone ring and he answered it, "Hello?"

"Andre at the back of this phone with the battery is a piece of paper. Take this and keep moving away. Leave the phone. Goodbye." The end remark seemed odd but Andre grabbed the paper and moved out.

Andre dragged himself out of totaled car. He saw the cops stepping out he pulled out his piece. He could still make it if he could get rid of the cops. He could do it.

Somewhere he heard someone yell, "DROP THE WEAPON!"

"I ain't telling you anything bro!" he yelled, unsure to what exactly he was saying. He was so afraid. Afraid of the cops, the Riddler, death.

A different voice yelled at him, "Put the weapon down!"

Andre panicked, "Leave me the fuck alone."

He didn't even notice the other car until he had two bullets in his chest. Searing pain overtook his body as he screamed. The strength in his legs disappeared.

Collapsing he felt blood drain from his body. He tried to cough but he could only choke on his blood. Where was this trap the Riddler had promised for the cops? Andre realized he was going to die. His body felt heavy and his mind sleepy. The world seemed to be dimming.

There was no trap for the cops, no antidote. He had been used, and now he was going to die.

Andre heard mumbling and someone pushing at his chest. He could barely feel anything but oh he could feel the blood seeping out of his body.

He tried to defend everything he did, "N-not my f-fault." Andre couldn't help but laugh in his head. That kid was a fucking genius. "N-nothing I could d-do." He took a final breath and he was gone.

The Riddler watched the whole thing on a camera he had set up earlier. Grinning he laughed at the officers reactions one of them was even the commissioner. Andre had been nothing more than a pawn that needed to be sacrificed at the right moment. He had played his part perfectly. His revenges were complete. Now time to make his impact on the city of Gotham, and make everyone answer his riddles.

* * *

><p>Present<p>

Gordon was at his desk with his hands on his face. He looked up when he heard a knocking. At the door Stewart peered in. "Gordon you said you had something on the case?"

"Yeah, more bad news."

Stewart stepped into the room, "What is it?"

"The coroner gave me a toxicology report. This guy was on Warfarin. Nothing that could do damage but enough to make his blood clotting impossible."

Stewart was shocked, "You're saying he knew someone was going to shoot the guy? The Riddler wanted him to bleed out?"

Nodding Gordon had a tired look on his face, "This guy just is one step of head. He's planned everything."

"I have no idea how we are going to catch him."


	18. Hacked

**So I just saw The Dark Knight Rises yesterday _asdfghjkl _so good yet, I still liked the Dark Knight better. And in case you were wondering yes my story will be extending into The Dark Knight Rises. It'll just take a bit of time XD probably not until at least September. Also take note that in The Dark Knight Rises, Edward will be 25, since he's 17 here. Also I'm sorry if this chapter is a little shorter than usual, I wanted to end it in a certain place :D Also yet another note, if you want to answer any of the riddles feel free to send me a PM! Thank you to the Human with Angel Wings, Guest, and Drake for the reviews! And also to the ever loyal AriddleAscare, AgentJazzy and MyFeetWontTouchTheGround! Love you guys so very much. So please enjoy and leave a comment! Thank you! **

**K**

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><p>Edward dipped his finger in his pudding, one of these days he really needed to start eating real food. He was losing weight and was constantly getting headaches. However eating pudding at 3 in the morning was a good way to stem the nightmares. Sister, her father and his own would terrorize him every night.<p>

Licking the chocolate, he flicked open his laptop, two weeks later and he had created enough fake documents to achieve his neck step. Now all he had to do was send the Gotham Police Force a little presents and everything would be put into place.

"It's finally coming true," Edward grinned to no one. "Fame, fortune, power and satisfaction. Everything I deserve."

He looked at his hair and scrawny frame, well something's could be fixed before he went into public. Edward looked his coding and then hit enter. He gave it till 9 am till the panic began.

* * *

><p>"What the hell is going on?" Gordon threw open his door looking out at the chaos which was the building.<p>

One police officer came up with a grim face, "Sorry Comish, something hit our systems. It's tearing all our files a new one. We're trying to save as much as we can, we have no idea what hit us."

"The Dent Act?" Gordon grabbed the man's shoulders in panic.

The police officer nodded in reassurance, "It's fine, the act is in a different data base."

"They're coming back on!" someone yelled in the room. All the computers flashed on, however instead of a regular loading screen a green question mark took over the screens.

"The end of an era, let one more sinner die."

With that the electronic voice faltered the all the screens shut down.

"He's in our systems," Gordon mumbled trying to scramble for his cell phone.

He hit a few buttons and placed the phone against his ear while plugging his other to drown out the noise of the precinct. "Stewart? Get your ass here now. The whole GPD database was compromised. The Riddler left another riddle, we have to see if we can back track the hack."

"Commissioner, we don't have anyone who can do that," Stewart tried to reason.

But Gordon was furious, tired of being played with, "Then find someone!"

* * *

><p>It took Stewart 15 minutes to make it back to Gordon's office where the commissioner was still fuming over the hacking incident.<p>

"How can it be so easy for this guy? Planning all these things, chemistry, killing and computers. Are we dealing with some sort of genius?"

Stewart shrugged, "Well you can learn a lot of stuff of the internet."

"Can you learn tactile thinking? Or how about human pattern prediction?" Gordon argued.

"Probably."

Gordon ignored Stewart, "What are we dealing with? Some sort of internet terrorist? A disgruntled computer programmer with a background in chemistry? And what is his plan? What does he want?"

"Maybe he's a copycat, saw the Joker thought he wanted to do that?"

"Then we are dealing with a psycho," Gordon mumbled.

He turned to Stewart, "You think we are walking straight into another trap if we try to trace the hacker? We'll just turn up at another pawn's house?"

"It can't hurt to try," Stewart started but then caught his mistake, "Or we could end up with another dead civilian."

Gordon weighed his options, "So either we follow the riddle we have and the puzzle. Or we trace the hack. Or we do nothing."

"We might as well do what we can, use what we can work with."

Gordon nodded in agreement, "You find someone who can help us, put up a position or internship or whatever. In the meantime I will look at the riddles."

Stewart stood up and moved to leave, "Sounds good, message me if you get anything."

Alone Gordon picked up his office phone, dialing a number he waited for an answer, "Hey Barbara."

"James? When are you coming home?" his wife's voice sounded so sweet to his ears.

Gordon answered, "Don't worry I'm going to be late, some work to deal with."

"You aren't on that Riddler case are you? I wish you would just retire, or quit. After everything with Dent…"

"Not on the phone dear. I have everything under control Barbara, the media is just trying to scare people," he hated to lie to his wife but he couldn't let her worry. Gordon had to catch this guy now.

He heard a sigh over the phone, "Just don't make this a regular thing anymore, the kids need you."

"I know and I won't, love you."

"Love you too," and Gordon heard a click of the phone being hung up.

How easily could increase his stress, but he loved her so much. Running his hand down his face, he looked down at the crumpled note in the bag.

The first words mocked him so, "We've had our fun with these petty games. But now the real riddles start now. Prepare to watch your city be torn apart. The key to this is control. You will never see me, but remember I am always here, in the shadows. Everything has a reason. "

Everything has a reason? So the school was chosen for a reason, the riddles had a reason, Greg Darcy had a reason, the green blood had a reason, the torture had a reason, but what? Gordon tried to take everything step by step. Maybe the Riddler went to Gotham East? No, ridiculous, a kid couldn't do these things. Maybe a worker? He'd have to look into this. The Riddles were his motif, but again still why riddles? Why not Sudoku or hangman? Greg Darcy, maybe the Riddler had spoken to him. Had been wronged by him? It would be worth it to check the man out again. It was apparent that green was the colour of choice with the Riddler. And the torture hadn't been out of a sadistic urge. No behind every cut, and attack the attacks had been a controlled rage. Probably someone who had been living a normal life trying to smile a way their anger. It never did work.

He looked at the square of random letters below the message.

NCONOINFTOR

MROLACOTINTRONL

ICSONSATROFLECO

It was all gibberish, it didn't make any sense. How was this a riddle?

Gordon pushed it aside, he had a new riddle anyway.

Speaking out loud, "The end of an era, let one more sinner die." Gordon didn't fully understand it but he knew it meant one thing.

Someone else was going to die.

* * *

><p>It had been a week since the station had been attacked. The commissioner had talked to numerous people about getting a new firewall, or better virus detection programs. He was calling yet another computer company and trying to understand some words he didn't fully comprehend.<p>

There was a knock at his door, he looked over to see Stewart grinning that stupid grin he always had, "Hey commissioner? The kid we hired is here."

"What kid?"

"You know the one that goes to MIT, the one here to help with the computers?" Stewart sighed, swearing that Gordon lived under a rock sometimes.

"Oh yah, bring him in," Gordon absent mindedly nodded still on phone.

When Stewart had said kid he really meant kid. The boy looked barely in high school, baby faced with a crooked, and naïve grin. Neat, dark brown hair and wearing a casual jacket and jeans. A laptop bag hung over his shoulder. He was tall, and lean.

When he spoke he had an air of intelligence, blinking his blue eyes he smiled at the commissioner. He held his hand out in greeting.

"Hello sir. I'm Edward Nygma."


	19. Oswald

**Sooooo I haven't died or anything just crazy busy with school. University can be hectic. I am getting back on the bus tho. So here's the next chapter. DOn't hate me! Thinngs get busy. I'm so sorry but please enjoy, I will try to update once weekly. And I also still don't own anything.**

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><p>"Good to meet you, I'm Jim, Jim Gordon," the man with the mustache grabbed Edward's hand eagerly, that or he simply wanted to get this meeting over. Edward made notes in his brain, the commissioner appeared to be the sort of man to take anything to the extreme, especially his job.<p>

Stewart grinned and interrupted, "He's a genius in his own field, sort of like you."

Edward was almost taken back by the praise, he was so used to being ignored. Quickly catching himself, "I'm just a techy, but thanks." It hurt his pride a bit not bathing in the praise more, but secrecy had its price.

He looked over these two men, one older and scruffy who carried himself like he had seen and done too much. While Stewart had naïve grin and was one who probably took things lightly.

While Edward analyzed him, Gordon was analyzing back. No way was this kid old enough to be in second year of university.

"So you're in second year?" Gordon questioned.

But Edward was smarter, "Yes Sir, I graduated from my high school two years ahead. My parents helped me pay for my years at MIT." Edward rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Glad they did, or I'd be stuck in office cleaning out old computer files."

That eased Gordon's suspicious mind, he flipped through the paperwork everything seemed in order. It was all voluntary which would please the finances, a co-op position which would end experience and a reference for the kid. Seemed like a good deal.

"Edward Nygma," Gordon said the name out loud, something about it just seemed wrong but he tried to push his suspicions away. "Everything seems in order, you've got a place to stay?"

Edward nodded, "Yup, part of my co-op is I get a dorm room at Gotham University."

"Good, good, so can you start today?" Gordon asked eagerly.

"Yah sure but I was thinking of unpack-"

Interrupting him Gordon pointed out his door, "Excellent because I need some to track the asshole that made the police network look like a hacker's playground."

"As you wish Commissioner," the kid nodded. Gordon appreciated the courtesy and respect. Maybe kids these days weren't that bad after all.

Edward walked through the loud office as different officers tried passing large amounts of paper around. They bumped into each other and white sheets rained from the sky as they swore. Edward shoved his hands in his pockets and clutched them tight. The clutter everywhere was enough to drive him mad.

"This seems a little chaotic," Edward noted looking up at Stewart, "Is it always like this Officer Stewart."

"Oh god, please leave the officer out. You're one of us now," Stewart clapped Edward on the back. Though Edward was almost half a head taller than Stewart, he had maybe half the muscle. So Edward almost took a header into a table.

Stewart grabbed Edward by the arm, "Whoa, sorry, didn't know u were as fragile as you looked."

That comment stung a bit but Edward held his tongue, "I'm not used to rowdiness," he lied. In truth he wasn't used to friendly violence in general.

"I get it I don't see MIT being one of those places you'd punch each other in greeting," Stewart joked and Edward gave a convincing smile.

Stewart kept talking, Edward was under the impression the man was happy to finally not feel like the new guy. He had someone he probably thought looked up to and admired him now. A sense of empowerment. What a fool was what Edward thought.

"You kind of remind me of those stick bugs, thin frame and long limbs," Stewart laughed at his own comparison.

Edward argued back, "I'm only like 6'3."

"Probably more, and what are you 18? You might still grow."

Edward grinned, almost genially. Here was a guy who barely knew him and treated him kindly in his own way. Though it was probably because Edward was now a genius computer tech with a passion for solving crimes. Or at least that's what his application said.

"Anyway I'm going to head to the server, try and see what the problem is," Edward was anxious to take the next step of his plan. Stewart nodded and headed back toward Gordon's office.

* * *

><p>Edward hated the dorm at Gotham University, the walls were plain and the furniture was worn out. He hated beige. It reminded him of his school which in turn reminded him of a jail. He put his green questioned marked Rubix cube on top of his desk. There just a little bit home in this terrible place.<p>

He took it off again and put into his safe that looked like a dictionary. He couldn't leave it out in the open since it was the Riddler's symbol. Edward had gone into the server and fiddled around. He had pretended to look for an intruder but coming up with nothing as he had made sure to leave no trail.

After writing up a report he headed home for the night. The unorganized police station gave him the shakes and made him want to pull his hair out. Edward at down, unsure what to do. He had to leave all his riddle books at home in case someone went through his room. He had two laptops, one that kept no trace of his browser history and needed to be opened with a fingerprint and iris scanner. Not only that but it couldn't be traced, sending its signal across the world. Also it was disguised as an old suitcase. It could not hold any fingerprints on the case and in the case someone tried to open it, it destroyed the laptop. It may be overkill but Edward was a nervous person. And still Edward wouldn't use the emergency laptop to look up riddles to satisfy his hunger for knowledge.

Instead he picked up a book on biology and different types of toxins. One of the electives he was apparently taking at MIT. In reality he was keeping his knowledge of poisons open, it had helped in his schemes so far. The subject was the most difficult for Edward, his test subjects, rats, had died before he had gotten the dosage right.

He might as well spend his free time now as soon, he would not have any.

* * *

><p>"Oswald!" the screeching seemed to fill the house. Oswald massaged his head, would his mother ever shut up and leave him alone?<p>

"Oswald Chesterfield Cobblestone!"

"Yes mother?!" Oswald yelled back.

Screaming, "If you're going out bring an umbrella!"

"I'm not going out mother!"

"I heard the door!"

Oswald wanted to tear out his hair. He was almost 46 years old and his mother was screaming at him every day to bring to bring an umbrella. Trying to compose himself, Oswald smoothed his white collared shirt. He straightened his tie and combed his black hair that was partially graying. He had always tried to dress nicely.

"There was no door!" Oswald tried to fix his eyeglasses in frustration. Only one of the lenses was real the other was glass. He hated the fact only one of his eyes was bad, glasses felt useless.

His mother kept to her room most of the time. She hated outdoors ever since her husband had died from pneumonia after being drenched in a storm. The Cobblestone family had always been well off and even after his father had died, Oswald's mother wouldn't let Oswald near the finances despite Oswald's schooling in accounting and business.

A squawk caught his attention, this time not his mother. On the chubby side, and short, Oswald stood up to pat a small budgie on its head. The house of filled with birds, the only thing, other than her son, that kept her company. However they seemed to keep Oswald company more than his mother. Above him he heard a huge "THUMP", the sound of something soft falling. Right above him was where his mother lived.

"Mother?"

* * *

><p>Edward pulled on his green jacket, just thinking of the next step made him shake with excitement. His goggles sat on top of his head while his tie hung around his neck untied. He had a small backpack filled with his tools for the night.<p>

He had wanted his playthings to figure out the riddle before he put out his next one but it didn't seem like that would happen. The idiots would have to get it in their morning report tomorrow. Edward tried to his tie, failing he opened up the app on his phone. The app was being used constantly now with his dual life as the Riddler.

Pulling out a small black pistol he had bought off some criminal, he pulled out the bullets, counting them. He had to be ready for anything. Edward knew the cops would be demanding his after the craziness and mocking of his last attack. He pushed the cartridge back and took off the safety.

He had to be ready if he wanted to destroy them all.


End file.
